Doll
by idioticonion
Summary: Barney Stinson goes to extreme lengths to deal with his feelings for Robin. Crossover with Joss Whedon's Dollhouse. Expect new parts as new episodes of Dollhouse are aired.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

_-- Sunday --_

He moves inside her, slowly, because he feels her tremble and he knows how close she is. He stares into her eyes - cobalt blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes - and he lets something unfamiliar wash over him. He sinks into it, this feeling, this warmth flowing from his chest, through his torso, making it so, so hard to keep control. 

_She doesn't have to say "I love you" because he knows it; he sees it in every tiny change of expression, every hushed plea, every gasp. He's never had "I love you" sex before, not when the feeling's been mutual. _

_Finally she says his name, like a curse, like a prayer, and he loses the battle against himself, pounding into her until everything spills over at the edges and he's lost in a waterfall of agony and ecstasy because he's losing her, losing her and this will be their last time. _

_When he opens his eyes, he rolls off her before he has a chance to focus. He's up on his feet, turning his back, pants on, shirt buttoned, before she can say a word. _

_"Barney?" _

_She speaks so softly, but her words… there's a hint of the Canadian accent that always comes out when she's angry. She won't let him do this, she says. He told her he loved her, she says. Lily told her-_

_"Lily was wrong," is his empty retort. Oh, he told Lily that he loved Robin, yes. He'd opened up, just that one time, just enough to let in the pain through a chink in the armour he'd built so painstakingly since Shannon left him. That had been one in a very long line of mistakes. _

_This is another. _

_Why did he think that doing this had any hope in hell of making him feel better? That sex would solve anything? He looks over at the girl on the bed, at her long, long legs, her beautiful, upturned, trusting face, so full of love and betrayal. _

_Oh yes, he's in love with Robin. _

_But that's not Robin. _

-- Three days earlier --

"Mr Stinson, do you understand our terms as previously agreed?"

Barney sighed. "Ms DeWitt," he said, leaning in. "Adelle… I wouldn't be here if I didn't." He steepled his fingers, leaning his elbows on the desk. "If your… 'active'… can do what you say she can do…?"

"She can. She will. She'll love you, in exactly the way you specified. Totally and unconditionally. She'll believe she's in love with you." Barney quirked an eyebrow and the Englishwoman nodded. "Everyone's a cynic," she said with a tiny smile, "until they experience our services first hand."

"The photo is… I'm impressed…" Barney held it lightly between his fingers. "She's very like her. Very…" He frowned slightly. He didn't really believe this woman's sales pitch. But if it were true, it would be worth every exorbitant cent. He handed over the banker's draft.

"It's nice doing business with you, Mr Stinson," she said, her eyes lighting up. That was one thing he did trust - this woman's mercenary soul. At least these people were professional. "She'll be with you in twenty four hours."

"Robin…" Barney said. They barely even asked him any questions. He'd just bought a girl, a slave, a… whatever she was, for forty eight hours. He could do what he liked with her. This… woman didn't seem to care at all, so long as no harm came to the girl. No physical harm.

Weird.

Expensive and weird.

But what did he have to lose? He'd tried everything else.

Barney shrugged. If nothing else, the sex would be great. "Okay…"

-- Sunday --

No physical harm, but he'd broken her heart.

Shit, what did he care? In a few hours she wouldn't ever remember him and all he'd remember was how she felt, physically, how her body had fit perfectly beneath his, the noises she made when she came.

Robin… But _not_ Robin.

The resemblance was uncanny but not exact. There were a hundred tiny infinitesimal differences that made it hard to suspend his disbelief, even for just a weekend. In the end those differences had grated, adding up into one big ball of wrong… ness.

She was beautiful, feisty, difficult, fun, intelligent… She looked like Robin, she acted like Robin, she sounded like Robin, she had Robin's memories (how did they _do_ that?) but she just wasn't Robin.

She hurt like Robin would have. Like Robin could have.

Like Robin never would.

Because Robin would _never_ let him get this close to her again.

Because he'd fucked everything up. Forever and ever. Amen.

And he couldn't forget, that was the problem. He had to ret-con the situation, make it so he was the one who'd done the dumping; he was the one who'd tore out her heart.

She was crying - his not-Robin. She was crying and he _felt_ it but it wasn't enough.

No, this wasn't enough.

He laughed nastily and slapped her on the rump.

This wasn't enough to heal him, to get closure, to help him recover from another devastating bout of _feelings_.

It wasn't ever going to have enough. But Barney had known that from the moment he'd walked into Ms DeWitt's office for the first time. He'd known that from the moment he'd first heard of the Dollhouse.

This girl, this faux-Robin, she wasn't the point.

He grinned, looping his tie around his neck.

Time for phase two.

*--*--*

Barney was surprised to find that faux-Robin had returned to a location very near the offices where he'd met Ms DeWitt. It wasn't hard to track her with the tiny chip stuck to her skin (he knew a guy) and he'd spent a day on his laptop trying to work out the best angle to infiltrate the place. It wrapped up with the tightest security package he'd ever seen. Thing was, as Barney knew well, it was always the back door that tripped you up.

So it was with the Dollhouse, and Topher Brink, who had a weakness for cigarettes. It was simple happenstance that the very person Barney needed to talk to was the very dude who snuck out for a smoke every few hours, hanging around outside the service entrance and puffing away like a goddamn chimney. It was easy after that, easy to follow him to a late bar, easy to buy him a drink, easy to charm him.

Easy to drop the bomb.

The difficult thing was preventing the guy from running a mile.

"I don't want anything from you," Barney said. "Nothing I can't pay for, anyways."

Topher backed away.

"I'll pay you the same as I paid for the active - just you, not the Dollhouse, if you'll take this one thing out of my brain."

"What?" This stopped the guy in his tracks.

Barney grinned. Jesus, were they all that easily bought? "Can you do that? Take just one thing? Wipe me the way you wipe the actives?"

"It depends what it is," Topher said, sitting back down next to him. "Jesus, I shouldn't even be talking to you!"

"I want to forget something."

"A memory? I guess so." Topher frowned, his eyes unfocussing in a way that all geeks do when you give them a cool problem to solve. Barney had seen that look enough times at work.

"Nope. A feeling." He clarified.

Topher grinned. "Actually, that's easier. Emotions are really easy to map and extract. Memories are harder. It's all to do with-"

Barney cut him off before he launched into a full-blown nerd-out. "Okay, that's great then, dude. Same price, wipe the emotion, job done. No one can know? This is strictly off the books."

He saw Topher consider it, saw him looking towards the door. Barney didn't move, he knew he'd already reeled in his fish.

"That's a lot of money," Topher said. "How do I know you're good for it?"

Barney laughed. "Please."

Topher shrugged. "So long as you pay in advance, what do I care?" He tilted his head. "What do you want to forget so badly? What emotion do you want me to wipe?"

Barney swallowed because it sounded so stupid, so girly, so _lame_. Then he said it.

"Love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

_-- Monday --_

_The place is like a freakin' ZenGarden, or like something out of Kill Bill (the first film, not the lame-ass second movie). Topher brought him up the back way, up a cold concrete stairwell, but here in his office/lab it's warm. Barney stares out of the window, beyond the glass wall and into the deserted space below. He imagines it peopled with dumb, naked chicks, wandering around like zombies. He grins, wondering if he can get in back in here again, have him some quality time with the living dolls. _

_"This is going to hurt a bit…" Topher says. He gestures for Barney to lie down on the reclining chair and he places a band around his head, fiddling with what look like long acupuncture needles. _

_Barney has second thoughts, quickly chased around his mind by third thoughts and even his slower, less awesome forth thoughts. But by the time he's ready to protest, Topher has him strapped down, leather cuffs encircling his wrists and ankles. _

_"I can't put you out for this." Topher says, "Too much risk. I need to ask you some questions while I carry out the procedure."_

_Barney feels a stab of suspicion and a great big punch in the gut of mistrust. But he's sick inside and he's tired of living with this dead ache. He just needs it gone. "Are you a qualified medical professional, Mr Topher?"_

_"Bit late to ask that now, Mr Stinson. Just try to relax?" _

_The first needle digs into his skull. _

_Hurts like a motherfucker. _

_Barney's hands ball into fist, his nails leaving half-moon cuts in his palm. _

_"Can you remember the first time you met her?" Topher asks him. _

_Barney closes his eyes because it's really not helping, watching the needles getting closer and closer. "S-she… It was i-in a bar…" _

_JESUSSHITCHRISTFUCKTHATHURTS!_

_"Just one more, Mr Stinson. Now, think back. When did you first realise you were in love with her?"_

_He does think about it. He really thinks about it. Was it that very first glimpse of her - green sweater, sparkling eyes, wry grin…? Dirty phone calls, saying dirty words on air just to humour him… Was it laser tag? Was it the way she smiled, laughed, kissed him? Was it? Was it?_

_OhFUCKFUCKFUCKMAKEITSTOP!_

_"That's it… perfect," Topher's voice rose in pitch, sounding squeaky. "Now, what makes you happy when you think about Robin?"_

_Everything about her makes him happy, makes him sad. The way she looks at him, like she's the only one that knows him. The ways she's fought so hard not to be a boy even though she thinks girls are weak… yet she's never been weak. The way she loves, so strongly, so surely. The way she kissed him, the second time they made love-_

_The way she-_

_The way-_

_"Yeah, we're getting there," Topher's voice slows, distorts. "Think of a time when you were with her when you felt-"_

_He can't. He can't make connections. Robin… Robin… She's connected to everything he cares about… There's a memory of a time, at Marshall and Lily's second wedding, in the open air, just an acoustic guitar and close friends, and tears flow down his cheeks because he was so happ-_

_No… No… It's all too fast, too close, too near. The memories jumble and merge… And there was that time when they were all together, watching the superbowl, and she bet him- he was so hap-_

…_and at his brother's wedding, when she sat down next to him, and Sam giggled because the baby obviously knew even before he did that this woman was the only one who'd ever make him ha-_

_And there was…_

_Was…_

_"All done."_

_Barney opens his eyes. He has a tension headache and he's feeling sick - it's like the remnants of a hangover. _

_"What are you feeling Mr Stinson?" Topher asked him anxiously. "What do you feel when I say the name Robin?"_

_He thinks about it, although thats hard to do when a monkey is playing a big base drum on his frontal lobe. _

_What is he feeling?_

_"Not a thing…"_

-- Friday --

"Wow, I didn't know Barney was back," Marshall said as he checked his email. Unfortunately Billson chose that moment to walk past and Marshall scrambled to close the window. However, he needn't have bothered feeling guilty - the email was work-related anyway, just a standard requisition for the E24 briefs.

"Stinson? Got back Tuesday," Billson replied, peering at Marshall's screen.

"Really?" Marshall asked, surprised. "That's weird." And it really was. Barney was the biggest slacker Marshall had ever met - he made slacking a freakin' _art form_. Barney would use any excuse to get out of work and get anyone who'd listen to join in with him. But in the last couple of days there had been no "conference calls", no wild and crazy theories or new holidays created, no schemes to nail the latest bimbo in the secretarial pool… Perhaps Billson had got it all wrong? "Hey, Billson?" Marshall said, "Should I take Barney this E24? I was going up to ninth anyway."

Billson nodded curtly and Marshall grabbed the file on his way up to the elevator. Up on ninth and outside Barney's office, Marshall could hear Barney laughing and Sheila's voice. He poked his head tentatively around the door.

"So, any messages?" Barney was saying.

"Um… three from Pilkington," Sheila replied. "I've put the contact details in an email. One from your friend, Mr Mosby, saying you need to 'pick up your god damned phone once in a while', hem…"

Marshall grinned.

"And three more from your brother. Do you want me to get him on the phone for you?"

Marshall took a step back. If Barney wanted to talk to James then he'd come back later, obviously…

"Nah," Barney said, "better got on with Pilkington I guess. Call me ten minutes before the Westover meeting? And don't forget the agenda for Tenze? I'll be here till eight… Thanks Sheila…"

Marshall frowned and hesitated outside the office as Sheila came out. Something in his gut felt off. Barney choosing _work_ over calling his brother? Barney staying here till eight on a _Friday night_. That wasn't weird. That was damn unprecedented.

"Hey bro…" Marshall said, walking into Barney's office.

"Marshall," Barney nodded at him with a neutral expression. He didn't get up, didn't look pleased to see him. In fact, Barney turned his attention almost immediately back to his laptop.

"How was LA?" Marshall asked, hoping that Barney would regale him of tales of his adventures, but his friend just shrugged non-committal-ly. "So, I was thinking," Marshall continued, "conference call at four, then MacLaren's for drinks, meet up with the guys then go out for dinner? Blow off that meeting with Tenze, dude! Bannerman can totally cover it…" He winked, laughing.

Barney didn't laugh.

"Barney?"

Barney looked distracted. After a beat he said. "Look… Marshall, I'm really busy…"

"Dude! Senior mischief consultant, here!"

"Marshall…" Barney looked exasperated.

"Look, I'll do you a deal. I'll even join in with Pigeon Wars: The D-Day Landings?" He raised an eyebrow. "Dude! I haven't seen you in, like, a whole week!"

But there was nothing in Barney's expression that said he was even considering the offer - and this was the same guy who had actually got down on his knees the week before about the Pigeon Wars thing and offered Marshall, like, ten thousand dollars to participate.

"Chief mischief maker…?" Marshall said, weakly.

Barney just looked at him. No "Sorry, Bro." No nothing. He was looking at him as if he was being completely and utterly childish and he had no time for him.

Marshall felt the tendrils of embarrassment creeping over his skin, turning it pink. He felt humiliated. He turned around and stalked out of Barney's office, still clutching the E24 to his chest.

*--*--*

Barney did turn up at MacLaren's that night, but he arrived very late. Robin didn't credit Marshall's story of what he was now calling "Android-Barney". And his "Hey, you could totally relate, Robin - he's probably the same model as you!" was just _mean_.

But it was a little odd that Barney didn't come and talk to them when he walked into the bar, instead hitting on some total skank-whore when he could do much better. Robin could see at least three girls who were prettier and younger and she wasn't even trying!

Of course, she felt that familiar flutter of guilt. It was true, things hadn't been quite the same after she'd slept with Barney again. But if that had been anyone's fault it was his. He'd insisted on keeping it a secret. He'd insisted on going all weird on her. She'd known that friends shouldn't date and still she'd let him pursuade her!

But Barney had seemed fine when she'd suggested they didn't do it again. Fine, as in that kind of lock-jawed, manic-eyed version of "fine" that he seemed to be stuck in almost permanently these days.

And, okay, she'd been worried about him. She'd tried to talk to him. She'd started staying up after last call, getting him really drunk, practically forcing him to open up. But the nights had invariably ended the same way - him with that puppy-dog look that said "Please have sex with me" and her turning him down. And he was really, _really_ hard to resist.

Robin hated him for being so hard to resist, sometimes.

But anyway, while Marshall was stridently complaining about Android-Barney, she went up to talk to him, brushing away skank number two (where did he find them?) and flashing him her best and most confident Bro-grin.

"Slim pickings tonight, Stinson!" She said, brightly.

And she saw it. The second he looked up at her, the way he held himself, the way his blue eyes reflected the lights around the bar, the way he _didn't_ smile at her. No lock-jaw, no mania, no nothing.

Her first thought was - _Jesus, what have I done to piss him off this time?_

But he didn't look pissed off. He looked at her as though she were a stranger.

"You wanna come sit with us and play _Let's Mock Ted's Latest Date_?" She said, hurriedly, because she must be mistaken and this was way too weird. "Oh man, you wouldn't believe this girl. Seriously!"

He raised an eyebrow. He was like… god, there were no words to describe it. He just wasn't… He was…

He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

Robin swallowed, turned around sharply and headed back to her friends, her cheeks burning.

*--*--*

She was quiet when she got back to the booth but her mind was racing. She was never the first person to jump on Marshall's wild theories but if she were a less sceptical person, she'd have to admit that he was right.

There was something really wrong with Barney.

Really, _really_ wrong.

Really, really _wrong_.

After about ten minutes, Marshall caught her eye and she experienced a tiny flash of telepathy. He knew she knew and she knew he knew she knew. And for some reason Marshall didn't want her to say anything in front of the others.

Later, when Lily was in the bathroom and Ted was at the bar, Marshall came over and sat next to her, speaking very rapidly. "Look, we're going to have to say something to Ted and Lil, but we need to play this down, okay? Let's have one last attempt at reaching out to Barney? In the meantime, I've got some ideas and I'm going to check out what he was doing in LA, because he's acting really weird, right? Right? Did I tell you that he wouldn't speak to James? I did? Right? So I figured something really bad's happened and we need to help fix it? You in? Good?"

Before Robin could say anything Ted came back with more drinks and Marshall nodded to her.

When she looked back towards the bar, Barney had left.

-- Saturday --

He was watching the girl, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot, playing with her hair. He backed her up against the glass and pressed her body against it, smiling at his own reflection as he leaned in to kiss her. He liked how she pushed him back a little, both hands on his chest. He liked overpowering her resistance.

He wondered if, when he got her into his apartment, she'd say no. It wouldn't make any difference to him either way, but he was curious. He wondered what it would feel like when he fucked her. He wondered how hard it would make him if she struggled.

He thought this all through with a curious detachment.

The girl, long bare legs wobbling as she shivered from the cold (silly bitch shouldn't wear such a short skirt, except, obviously, _hot_) stumbled out of the elevator leaning on him for support. He fumbled with his key, pushing open the door into his darkened living room and kept hold of her hand. He didn't want to let this one get away.

When the lights went up he saw the four of them - Marshall, Lily, Ted and Robin, standing in front of his bedroom door, the Intervention Banner hanging from the ceiling.

He blinked. Random-girl screamed and pulled away from him but he caught her hand again, angrily.

"This is an intervention…" Ted said solemnly, reading from a piece of paper.

"Get out…" Barney said, low, warningly. Who did these people think they were? Invading his apartment, his personal space.

"Barney!" Lily said, "That's the point of an intervention. You can't tell us to get out."

Finally letting the girl go, Barney glared at the four of them and strode towards them. "I said… get… out…"

Ted opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"Do I have to call security?"

"Barney, stop being such a dick!" Marshall said. "Just hear us out!"

Barney fished his cell phone from his pocket. "911, Marshall. Get out."

His friends looked at each other.

"I mean it."

After some hesitation and frantic whispering, they all trailed through his living room to the door. Random-chick had already left. Great.

"Barney…" Ted said. Barney shook his head. He was irritated and confused. Why did they all keep _bothering_ him? What was up with these guys? It was as if they were stalking him or something! He could remember a time when he used to hang out with them pretty-much every day but, honestly, he had absolutely no conception as to why. They were all losers. They were boring. He had no interest in them whatsoever.

"Just leave." He said. "And don't call me again." He thought he should make that clear, wasn't that the best thing to do? Why were they all looking at him like that? Jesus, they were all psychopaths, clearly!

They left and he had to go to bed alone, which was a drag, but what could he do? They next day was a Sunday but he went into work anyway and took down all his motivational posters and threw them in the trash.

Who needed motivational posters anyway? They were just _stupid_.

-- Monday --

Dominic walked up and down behind Topher, scratching his chin.

"Are you going to tell her?" Topher looked around. Being fired from this job definitely wasn't the worst he could look forward to. He'd been an idiot not to cover the money more cleverly. Of course Dominic monitored all their bank accounts. That was his job, after all. Keep the Dollhouse secret, keep the Dollhouse safe. Like Gandalf with a big fucking gun.

After a while, Dominic said "No".

Topher sagged with relief.

"But we're going to keep a close watch on Mr Stinson, monitor him for side effects. You chipped him?"

"Naturally. I'm not stupid."

"That's a matter of opinion. So I'll send someone to New York, see if we can contain this." Dominic sighed. "I'd have thought after Alpha, you'd have learned your lesson."

Topher cringed. "This isn't the same and you know it."

"It's just as dangerous. To the Dollhouse. To us."

"Come on!" Topher protested. "He's just some sad, lonely businessman and I took away his heartbreak, that's all. It's fine. It's going to be totally fine."

Dominic shook his head. "If it isn't there will be hell to pay."

Topher shrugged. _Aren't we were in hell already_? He thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

_-- Friday --_

_There's definitely someone following him. Barney looks out of his window and sees the same truck parked out in the street, the same one that's been there these last few mornings and the same one that's been outside the GNB Building. _

_It's not like he hasn't been followed before. He's not new at this._ _Usually it's internal affairs or FBI and it's about something work-related._

_This time he suspects it isn't. Yeah, it could be those annoying ex-friends, sticking a private detective on him. But more likely it's those Dollhouse jerks checking up on him: Topher buckled and came clean, or he's been found out. _

_Whatever, it's not his problem. The procedure was one-hundred percent successful. It's just… He's fed up of being followed. Barney glances behind him, where the latest in a long, long line of blonde bimbos is stripping off her tiny dress. He considers reaching out and grabbing his samurai sword, charging downstairs and threatening the truck driver with serious violence if he doesn't go the fuck away and leave him alone. His fingers clench into a fist, his heart races and he really wants to do it. Then the girl chirps in the background, pleading with him to get on the couch with her, get on the floor with her, get on the bed with her, get between her legs. _

_But Barney is still staring at the sword, wondering, wondering. What would it be like to see it slice through human flesh? The driver's? The girl's?_

_He's just curious. _

_What would it be like?_

*--*--*

Topher was summoned into Adelle's office. He'd only ever been there when bad things happened and his latest news wasn't going to endear him with the boss. Especially after Dominic had decided to tell her everything after all.

"So," Topher said. "I've been tracking Mr Stinson like you asked. He's working way outside normal parameters right now. I think we're going to have to bring him in."

"Or eliminate him," Dominic replied, curtly. Adelle did not look happy. Topher considered himself lucky that she hadn't eliminated him already!

"Laurence…" She said, smoothly. "I hardly think we need to go to such extremes. I agree with Topher. We bring him in and wipe him completely. In fact, I think we may be able to salvage this situation." She paused, allowing her gaze to pass over both men. "We make Mr Stinson an active."

"_What?_" Dominic exclaimed. "That's… ridiculous. He's far too old, for one thing."

Adelle gave them both a tiny smile. "I was actually thinking of expanding our market. Very young men make some people uncomfortable. There's a large number of very rich, very bored women out there who want someone a little more mature, a little dashing, a little… debonair…"

Topher laughed. "You sound like you're speaking from personal experience."

She shot him down with a glare but then she settled herself, smirking. "You must admit. He does look rather good in a suit…"

Dominic shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't agree to this. If we do bring him Stinson in, we just wipe him then… the attic…"

Topher shuddered. "No way… I agree with Adelle - Ms DeWitt."

She smiled. "You see, he's confident we can make the best out of a bad lot. Aren't you dear?"

Topher smiled nervously. There was a very definite threat in her steely gaze. "Um… sure."

-- Monday --

"Dead end… they're all dead ends…" Marshall said, his cell phone jammed against his ear as he typed on his computer keyboard.

"Marshall…" Robin's voice came over the speaker. "I'm worried about Barney too, but I don't want you risking your job putting so-"

"Good point," Marshall cut her off. "We probably should talk about this on an unsecured cell. They might be bugging us!"

He could hear Robin sigh on the other end of the line.

"It's not like I've got anything more to tell you anyway. Barney spent an obscene amount of money on what looks like… real estate… when he was in California. But I can't find anything in the land registry. It just looks like the money's gone missing, which is impossible. But I've no way of telling unless we go to California ourselves…"

"We?" Robin asked. "Why we..?"

"Because I'm a bad-ass fighter and you can handle a gun. And I have a feeling we'll need both skills when we get there."

"Marshall that's ridiculous-"

"Gotta go, sorry!" He said, snapping shut his phone. Billson walked past and gave him a grin.

"Hey Erikson. You're still friends with that son'f'bitch Stinson, right? Take a trip up to ninth and give him this?" Billson tossed a contract on to his desk.

"Hey, what do you mean?" Marshall asked.

"Guy's a douche. He stuck me in it with the Boss today, but good. Dude's days are numbered at GNB. You can tell him that from me."

"Well, he doesn't listen to me-" Marshall began, but Billson had already walked away. Marshall watched him go, wondering what the hell was going on. Billson and Barney were tight, had been ever since Barney got Marshall that intern job just before he graduated from Law school. He'd never seen them get into a fight.

This situation was going from weird to freaky, but fast. And the worst was yet to come.

When Marshall got up to Barney's floor, all hell had broken loose. Sheila was crying and the place was crawling with police. "What happened here?" Marshall demanded.

He pushed his way through the crowd to Barney's office, which was in disarray. His laptop was smashed on the floor and there was a spatter of blood across the carpet.

"Oh my GOD…" Marshall said, clamping one hand over his mouth. "Oh my god, oh my god!"

"Move back, sir," one of the police officers told him.

"Where's Barney?"

"Marshall…" Sheila called out. "I was only gone for five minutes and when I got back…" She pointed at his office as a cop dragged her away. "I think he's been kidnapped!"

"Oh my god…" Marshall said, backing away.

This was serious shit. Really serious shit. He had to think about Lily now, and getting the hell out of there. He had to think about his wife and his future.

But Marshall couldn't do it. He couldn't abandon Barney, even after his friend had acted like a dick. He trusted Barney implicitly. If his friend was in really bad trouble, it would be just like him to push all of his friends away to try and keep them safe.

So, no, Marshall couldn't leave Barney to his fate. He needed to get involved. But for that, he also needed Robin.

-- Friday, two weeks later --

"Marshall, I cannot believe I actually agreed to this…" Robin said in hushed tones.

"Yeah, all right, shut up already. I heard you the first fifty times."

"Then you agree this is stupid and we should fly back home?"

Marshall sighed and just looked at her. They'd made a breakthrough when they'd searched Barney's apartment and Robin had thought to look in the Storm Trooper (apparently someone had already removed the metal briefcase from under the bed) and found a couple of DVDs containing backups from Barney's laptop. Luckily, they both knew Barney's password so the encryption wasn't hard to break.

There were files, diagrams, most of it pretty unintelligible - but after two hours of searching Marshall came up with a couple of copies of a contract and some google map search results dated the day before Barney had first flown to LA. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

And so, here they both were in California, on an _actual_ stake out!

"This is so exciting!" Marshall grinned, biting into a donut. "It's like we're detectives or something! CSI Eriksen and Scherbatsky!"

"It's boring!" Robin exclaimed, taking a gulp from a bottle of water. "Hold on…" She sat up, staring at an old warehouse building across the street, where a van was parked. "Hey, isn't that Barney?"

Marshall shielded his eyes from the bright sunshine. "I think it is."

"Barney?" Robin lunged for the window crank but Marshall leaned over and grabbed her arm. "Ow! What the hell, Marshall?"

Marshall stared at Barney, or the guy who was very definitely Barney's twin. He was even wearing a suit in ninety degree heat.

"He doesn't look like he's in danger. If you go out there right now and he goes all Vader on your ass, then we're back to square one."

Sure enough, Barney turned the corner, walked casually down the block and ducked into a coffee house.

"Marshall!" Robin said, grabbing her purse and shrugging him off. "No! That's Barney and I'm going to go ask him what the hell is going on!"

Before Marshall could stop her, Robin opened the door and was running across the street. Heart in his throat, Marshall was torn between going after her and staying in the car. If something really bad happened, they might need a quick getaway.

As minutes ticked by, Marshall came closer and closer to cracking and just leaving the car.

Then Robin emerged from the coffee shop. Slowly, far too slowly, she walked across the road and got back into the passenger seat.

She just sat there, folding her hands across her lap.

"Well?" Marshall insisted. The suspense was killing him.

"I saw him. It's definitely Barney."

"And…?"

Robin took a deep breath. Marshall could see her eyes were shining with tears. She sniffed and rubbed her nose.

"He looked right through me, Marshall. As if he didn't know me at all."

--

They agreed to follow Barney, although Robin itched just to throw herself under the wheels of the damn van that seemed to drive him everywhere and demand an explanation. Marshall held her back, inexplicably being the voice of reason after he was the one who'd dragged her on such an unreasonable quest in the first place.

So they followed Barney. For a whole week.

Marshall rang Ted and Lily every night to give them an update. The three of them acted like it was this huge great adventure but the longer it went on the more terrified Robin felt. She wanted to run away, run home, but something prevented her.

It wasn't the mystery which so fascinated Marshall. The big guy had relentlessly hunted down clues and whispers of clues from Barney's old laptop until he came across a couple of conspiracy nut-job websites which mentioned this urban myth - the Dollhouse - a place where human beings were programmed to be the ultimate slaves, the ultimate sex toys. And, yes, Robin could well imagine how Barney would get himself mixed up in all that, he was foolish enough and was pretty much three-quarter dick. But it didn't explain his change in behaviour and the way he'd treated everyone recently unless…

Unless…

Robin didn't want to voice the "unless" - certainly until Marshall realised it.

But nope, none of that was what kept Robin in LA. What kept her there for a whole week, following Barney as he was driven around, meeting different people, going on "dates", staying in expensive hotels, what kept Robin there was…

Barney.

The more she watched him, the more she worried about him. And from the second day, when they'd seen him step out into the street wearing a t-shirt and kakis, Robin had know in her heart of hearts that they were dealing with the "unless".

Finally Marshall said it out loud.

"What if the Dollhouse wiped his memory?"

She was ready for that. "He remembered us, okay, back in New York. He was just mean to us."

"I don't mean back then," Marshall said, "I mean after they kidnapped him and brought him here."

Ah… there it was. The "unless" she'd dreaded for three days.

"Yeah." She said simply. "And if they have, what do we do about it? We can't fight these guys. If they can walk right into GNB and drag one of their senior executives out without anyone stopping them, what can you and me do?"

Marshall turned towards her. "We just have to watch and wait. Something'll come up."

Robin shook her head. "You always have such _faith_, Marshall!"

Marshall shrugged. "Hey, it's Barney, right? He'd do the same for us?"

Robin swallowed, feeling tears well up again. "Yeah. Yeah, he really would."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

_-- Saturday --_

_He rolls on to his side, then on to his back. He can hear her sleeping beside him, hear each slow, steady breath but he can't join her in slumber. He's restless, something nudging at the back of his mind, like he's forgotten something. _

_He's reminded of his Mom: "Michael Valentine, you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed right on your neck!" and he grins at the memory. He knows there was something... it's annoying..._

_When he finally remembers, he slaps his own forehead. The treatment! Of course. _

_He glances at the sleeping woman beside him and smiles fondly, his fingers trailing over the warm skin of her back. She was… amazing. He knows it's okay to sneak out. She won't mind. After all, he'll just apologise tomorrow. He definitely wants to see her again. _

_He gets up silently and hunts for his discarded clothing, finally finding one sock draped over the TV. He can't help but chuckle, remembering how it got there. Boy, she nearly killed him!_

_Carrying his shoes, he lets himself out of the hotel room, closing the door carefully behind him so as not to wake her. As he stands outside the door, pulling on his leather jacket, a girl walks past him and he doesn't even look up, just fumbing with his socks. He's completely surprised when the girl doubles back, reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling him a few feet along the corridor before he gathers his wits enough to break away from her.  
_

_She looks back at him, reaching for his hand again. Her voice is low and urgent. "Barney, please… come with me."_

_"I'm sorry," he says, bemused. "I think you've got me confused with someone else."_

_She shoves something into his hand. It's a photograph, he realises, as he unfolds it. It's a picture, a candid photo of a group of friends in a bar, holding their drinks and grinning inanely at the camera. He doesn't recognise any of them except one. _

_Himself.  
_

_"Please, come with me if you want to understand. Everything you've been told is a lie."_

_He shakes his head but she takes his hand again and pulls him across the corridor. Fishing a key out of her pocket, she opens the door and pushes him through it into another hotel room, the mirror image of the one he'd been in only minutes before. But this room isn't dark and the bed is empty and this is just all so wrong... "I can't stay here," he protests. "I have to have my treatment. Perhaps later…?"_

_"There won't be any later!" The woman says, getting very close to him. She's beautiful and she smells… so familiar. Her perfume...? But he would swear he's never seen her before in his life. _

_She holds out a few more photographs and some papers. "I don't know how much time we've got. They could be watching us…" She says. Clearly she's some kind of paranoid delusional because she goes very quiet, as if listening for something. "You have to come with me, out of the hotel, out of town. Your name isn't Michael Valentine, it's Barney Stinson and you've been brainwashed. You have another life, friends and family, in New York and I've come to rescue you."_

_He stares at her for a few seconds before bursting into peals of laughter. "That's just… stupid! Of course I'm Michael Valentine! I've got a sister, Suzie and a brother, Joe. I was born in Albuquerque and I work for a construction company with my Dad. I'm just a normal guy. Seriously, lady, you're either mistaken or deranged. I'm not brainwashed. What do you think this is? James Bond?"_

_She opens her mouth but, thinking better of what she was going to say, she lets him look through the photographs. "Barney… I thought you might say that. That's why I need to prove that I know you."_

_She leans forward and whispers something in his ear. It's complicated and it's extremely specific and it makes him blush and from the roots of his hair his toes. He feels unsettled by this woman and even a little outraged. How dare she play this game with him? He has no idea how she found out these things but there's no way he's going to-_

_"Barney," she interrupts his chain of thought, talking slowly, patiently, taking his hand. "If there's anything left of you in there, you've got to trust me. Please… Do you trust me?"_

_He blinks. "Trust me…" The words swirl around in his head, repeating, locking into one another, over and over. He opens his mouth dumbly but he can't seem to speak. _

_"Barney… If you'll just please come with me… please! I promise you… everything's going to be all right!"_

_He blinks again, murmuring: "Now that you're here…"_

_The girl covers her eyes with her hand and sighs. "Oh dear god…" She looked on the verge of tears. "Please… It's me, Robin! You remember? Robin! You trust me… Barney, do you trust me?"_

_He smiles. Robin. Robin is her name. _

_"With my life," he replies. _

*--*--*

"How's it going? Clive… Ben…?" Topher's voice rang out over the radio.

Benjamin Sottel leaned back in the chair, cricking his neck. So far, this gig had been… well, not in any way as dramatic as DeWitt had suggested it would be. His active, Whiskey, was as easy as pie. And Ben guessed that there wasn't a great deal of danger in all these "romantic engagements". He was beginning to wonder if Whiskey really needed a "handler" at all.

"Whiskey's fine…" He said, wearily. He heard Clive's voice confirming that his own active, X-ray, was good too and he'd be happier when this shift finished.

"Stay alert, boys," Topher said, in that irritatingly cheery way of his. "You never know what's out there…"

"Right", Ben said and went back to studying the screen. Brainwave patterns, heart rate, stress levels… all pretty normal for a guy who was going to be fucking some classy broad all night long in an expensive hotel suite.

Ben sighed. Really, these actives led a life of hedonistic luxury. As far as he was concerned, free will was over-rated.

But just as he turned around to reach for the coffee pot, the machine in front of him let out a bleep, and the waves on the screen jumped into dramatic peaks.

"Shiiiiiiit!" Ben said, reaching for his coat. Whiskey's vitals had just gone off the charts.

*--*--*

Robin knew that she should be getting Barney to the rendezvous point, where Marshall was waiting for them in the hire car. But at the point where her conscious mind should have been screaming at her to get them the hell out of there, her gut seemed to have taken over and she gently took Barney's face in her hands and kissed him.

He responded instantly, fingers tangling her hair, his other hand moving down to squeeze her ass. The kiss was at the same time so passionate and so vital and so _Barney_ that her breath caught in her throat. Oh _god_, she'd missed this… missed him… she'd missed him so much. What the hell had she been thinking? Why had they stopped seeing each other? All their problems seemed so juvenile, so trivial now that she had him back. He backed her towards the bed and they fell on to it, her sinking into the soft, soft mattress, pinned down by his weight. Yes, they should get out of there, yes, she should push him off, but his tongue was darting between her lips and his knee was insinuating itself between her legs and he felt so good…

She opened her eyes, breathless, and he was staring at her.

"Robin…" He breathed, his eyes wide and innocent and suddenly she knew she _hadn't_ got him back. This was still Michael Valentine, or whatever brainwashed personality Barney was trapped inside of. He didn't know her, not on a conscious level. He was responding to something else, some instinct of recognition.

He wasn't Barney. He was a toy, a play thing, something to be traded and sold and used.

And he was kissing her and he was amazingly good at it.

"Barney," she pleaded, not sure what for. To stop? To continue? She wanted him so badly that she pulsed inside, she throbbed, her skin flushing, her cheeks burning. She had no idea if she was strong enough to keep saying no.

He was so hard to resist.

His hand slid under her blouse, fingers gently cupping her breast, pinching her nipple. She arched her back, moaning as he pulled up her skirt. Yes… god yes… she wanted this. Nothing else matters, nothing. She pulled violently at a fistful of soft leather, dragging his jacket off his shoulders. She wanted to feel bare flesh against her own. She felt his dick, stiff against her thigh and she needed him, she needed this… She needed…

Suddenly, the hotel room door exploded inwards, sending splinters of wood flying across the room. Barney curled his upper body over hers, protectively, yelping as something struck him on the back. He rolled off her, pulling her down on to the floor behind the bed.

"Come out, hands over your head and no one gets hurt."There were two men standing in the doorway, pointing guns at them.

"Oh my god…" Robin heard Barney say. She reached for her purse, beside her on the floor.

"Michael Valentine, come out right now…" One of the men said, stridently. Barney stood up, his body jerking like a marionette. His eyes glazed over as he walked over to the two men, coming to a halt beside the writing desk. He had positioned himself inadvertently between the gun-toting men and Robin's position behind the bed.

"Move aside, Michael," the first man ordered him and Robin cried out "Barney," causing him to look around.

Then two things happened.

Robin pulled out the gun from her purse, threw off the safety and aimed it at one of the two gunmen.

Barney grabbed a pencil from the writing desk, grabbed the other guy's head and shoved the pencil up one of his nostrils and all the way back into his brain. As the big guy jerked and convulsed in Barney's arms before Barney let him go, causing the other guy to lunge forward and scream "Ben!" Robin took her shot, putting a bullet through the other attacker's forehead and time seemed to freeze as he fell backwards, his body slumping across his dead friend's.

She was left holding a smoking gun, feeling as if someone had poured ice water down her spine and her legs turned to jelly as she got up from behind the bed. Barney had to rush to support her as she lunged for the door.

"Oh… oh no… oh my god…" She was saying. She could hear the hysteria in her own voice. "Oh my god, Barney, we've got to get out of here."

Barney looking at her with complete trust in his eyes. "Yes. Let's get out of here." He smiled calmly. "Is it time for my treatment?"

Robin shook her head. What in the hell were they going to do? Her entire body began to shake.

*--*--*

Marshall sat, his hands gripping the wheel until they were numb, his eyes staring, unblinking, into the darkness until it was one empty blur. He sat there for an hour after the agreed time when Robin was supposed to be there and with every minute he expected to hear the sound of helicopters or sirens and he was wondering what it would be like to be locked up in Guantanamo Bay and if he'd ever see Lily again. He got out his cellphone.

"Hey…" He said, when Lily picked up, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Marshall… I thought you were coming home tonight…" She said. She'd been patient so far but now he could tell that she was at her wits end.

"Just give us a few more days, honey. If we leave now we might never find Barney again…" Marshall was tired, exhausted even. His neck muscles had totally seized up. He hated lying to his wife. He hated that he couldn't tell her about their desperate plan of grab and snatch and how it had possibly (probably) gone really, really wrong. "I'll be home just as soon as you know it, Lilypad." He said, trying to be reassuring.

"I miss you, Marshmallow," she said. "You're doing a great thing for Barney, don't think I don't appreciate it. But I'm starting to get worried-"

"Uh, gotta go…" Marshall said, shutting off his phone as a pair of headlights flared along the path ahead. Marshall knew suddenly that Robin wasn't coming and there was only one thing he could do.

They had to switch to plan B. It was time to call in the cavalry.

Unfortunately he _was_ the cavalry.

*--*--*

Robin was... woozy... Her face felt kind-of numb and her shoulder hurt where something had hit her. The man dragging her up the cold, concrete stairwell was strong and not gentle. She tried to speak but her eyelids and lips seemed glued together. She stubbed her toe on the edge of one of the steps and lost and shoe. She let out a moan between rubbery lips.

Then there was a light all around her - not bright, but glowing, diffused and dream-like. She heard a groan that she recognised and she knew Barney was somewhere close. This made her relax just a little bit. "What-?" She said.

"Robin?" Barney's voice made her try to sit up, but strong hands pushed her back into a reclining chair.

"Barn?" She cried out plaintively.

"Is it time for my treatment?" Barney asked, his voice sounding hollow. Robin struggled to open her eyes until she could see him, lying back on a chair similar to her own, a fair haired young man pushing his head back into a dip in the headrest so that she couldn't see his face.

She tried to scream but the man standing over her covered her mouth with a gloved hand.

"This is going to pinch a little," said the fair haired man as he flipped a switch and tapped on a computer keyboard at his desk.

There was a flare of light and Robin closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Nononono!" she screamed and tried to bite the man's fingers.

But then Barney sat up.

"Did I fall asleep?" He asked. And when he turned to look at her, he smiled. "Hello," he said.

*--*--*

Marshall swerved the car and it came to a stop in an alley. He jumped out, leaving the engine running. He and Robin had seen Barney dropped off at this place time after time and so they'd guessed it was some kind of headquarters for the Dollhouse. It wasn't hard to find a side door, but it was a surprise to find it unlocked. After hesitating just for a second, Marshall bounded up the stone steps, into a deserted corridor and across to a stairwell, taking three steps at a time as he climbed them in a frantic run. His heart was thudding and he had to waste precious seconds trying to catch his breath when he reached the top.

The single door was closed and locked but it looked pretty flimsy. Marshall knew he could get it open with a run-up.

He steeled himself. He had no idea what he'd find on the other side or how he'd even rescue Robin and Barney once he got there but he had to do this. He had to save his friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

_He looks up at the fair-haired man, who smiles down at him. Something doesn't feel… right. There's a girl sitting in a chair just like his and she's crying. He feels something, dragging him inside. He tries to think, he squints his eyes almost shut with the effort. The girl, he can tell that she's scared and confused and that makes him feel frightened because… because…_

_He doesn't know why but he just does. _

_"Robin…" He says, because that's her name and he trusts her. He trusts her and everything has to be right because she's there. _

_She'd never let anything happen to him. _

*--*--*

Robin sobbed with relief as her captor took his hand away. Whatever fucked-up thing they'd done to Barney's head, he still remembered her. She tried to get up but her captor held her down.

"I don't know how it happened but she's made some serious connection to Whiskey - he's recognising her as a handler," the fair-haired man said. "We have to wipe her too and buy ourselves some time. Dominic? I need your authorisation!"

Robin struggled, trying to elbow her captive in the ribs but it was no good, he was too strong. He took a syringe from the tray next to him and tapped it with his finger, his expression impassive.

"I agree," he said. "Do it."

*--*--*

Marshall's boot met the door and it shuddered on its hinges. He tried again and the lock rattled and then gave way so that he almost fell flat on his face as it titled inward. Beyond the door was a lab, wreathed in shadow. It was full of state-of-the-art equipment but it was clear that it was not being used. As Marshall moved into the room, he could see that it was deserted.

He stood there, in the centre of the room, panting and looking around him. The Dollhouse could have moved their base of operations in the last few days or they might be only one step ahead, having vacated this place in a panic. Either way, he was in the wrong place and he was too late to do anything now anyway. Marshall knew that he'd lost them. He'd lost Robin and he'd lost Barney too.

He didn't know how in the hell he'd ever explain that to Lily and Ted.

Marshall covered his face with both hands and took a deep breath. Then, gritting his teeth, he stormed over to the lab bench and turned the thing over with a roar, sending trays of equipment and glass beakers crashing to the floor.

*--*--*

"Please…" Robin begged. "You can't do this. Too many people know we're here. We've got friends in New York who're under instruction to tell the authorities everything we know!"

"Stupid girl…" The man called Dominic said. "This is what we do. We can take care of your friends. And who would believe them anyway?"

Robin swallowed. She could see the distress in Barney's eyes and she wished she could be more reassuring. "Please… look… you can't guarantee you can cover it up. But if you let us go, we'll disappear, we'll go to another country and you'll never hear from us again. It'll be like this never happened…"

Dominic shook his head, bringing the hypodermic needing down and jabbing it into her arm.

"Wait!" Topher said, holding out a hand before he could depress the plunger. "She's got a point…"

Robin's stomach lurched at his words. Could she believe…? Could she hope…?

"We've got to think about this…" Topher was saying. "We've got to be smart."

"Yes, smart! That's right." Robin nodded frantically, trying to keep calm, trying to keep him talking. That was all she needed - keep him talking, keep her and Barney safe. "I can help you!" She said.

"Yeah…" Topher said, tapping his chin with his cell phone. "Perhaps you can…"

-- Sunday --

Marshall was finally going home.

He stood in LAX airport, armed only with a heavy heart and a boarding card, waiting to be called to his gate. He stared at the blue departure screen, the white numbers and letters just a meaningless stream as he zoned out. He was too tired to fight any more, too tired to think. He was too sad. He needed to regroup. He needed his wife. He needed his best friend.

It felt like nothing was real anymore.

He still didn't really know anything definite about the Dollhouse. He didn't really know if Barney was just mixed up in something crazy or illegal or both. He had no leads, no clues and no Robin.

Everything had gone to hell in a hand basket.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

It was a woman, wearing a scarf over her head and dark sunglasses. When she tilted the glasses, he found himself looking into a pair of pretty blue eyes.

"Robin!" Marshall gasped, instantly wrapping her in a tight bear hug and lifting her off her feet. "Oh my god, Robin! Robin! I'm so glad to see you! Oh my god!" He sniffled, closing his eyes tight and she struggled to get him to let her go. "Where's Barney?"

Robin pointed behind her and Marshall saw his friend, standing a few feet away, apparently intently examining some watches on the Tag stand.

"Marshall," Robin said, looking around her. "They let us go on the condition that we get out of the country and that you, Ted and Lily never say a thing about their operation. If you keep quiet, then we're safe."

"No, Robin…" Marshall protested. "That's stupid! You can't let them get away with this! And where will you go?"

"Marshall…" Robin said patiently, and he could see she was scared. "They're watching us… right now. You have to believe me, this is the best way, the _only_ way. When we get settled, I'll call you so that you know we're safe. But please… don't put yourself in any more danger?"

Marshall hugged her again. "But this is totally unfair, Robin! You shouldn't have to leave the country! Can't you just promise them you won't say anything either?"

Robin shook her head. "Marshall… there's stuff going on that you wouldn't believe." She looked like she wanted to say more but she turned to look over her shoulder at Barney. "I need to keep him safe."

Marshall shook his head. "Robin, I can't agree to this. We'll call the police over right now! They can't do a thing to us."

"Marshall, please!" Robin's hands were trembling and she sounded like she was on the edge of hysteria. "Please… just don't fight me on this. I can't see you get hurt too… I can't see Lily get hurt."

Again, she looked over her shoulder at Barney, tears in her eyes, and Marshall made a decision. He'd agree to this for now, but he'd be damned if he'd let his friends stay in exile.

"Okay, okay… hey…" He patted her arm as Robin wiped her eyes, trying to get herself together.

"Thanks Marshall," she said, with a shaky sigh. "You're a good friend. I'll call you in a week, when I know we're safe. I promise." Her smile was full of regret. "Tell Ted and Lily that I love them?"

She kissed Marshall on the cheek, just as his gate was announced. "Go," she said. "We'll be okay. I promise. Go and don't look back. Quickly… they might change their minds!"

Marshall nodded and turned around, walking towards the gate. He couldn't stop himself from turning back just as he got to the exit. But Robin had disappeared into the crowd.

*--*--*

_The man took her arm as she walked out of the airport terminal and into the sunshine. She looked up at the blue sky and smiled as a strange sense of peace washed over her. _

_"Is it time for my treatment?" She asked. _

_"Yes," he said, with a smile. She nodded and followed him towards the van._

*--*--*

"How did it happen, exactly?" Adele asked. She sounded faintly irritated but not quite as pissed at him as she could have been.

"I kind of screwed up," Topher admitted. "I kind of took an imprint of Barney Stinson and used it as one of the elements for that engagement. The Barney Stinson element must have recognised Robin Scherbatsky as his friend and it triggered the active/handler imprint protocol initiation."

"What? You used his _own former personality_ as an imprint element? Topher, how incredibly stupid-"

"Oh come on! The Barney Stinson profile is like gold dust! It's charming, sexually-confident. It's exactly what we need for all these romantic engagements you keep requesting-"

"Topher, you will archive the Barney Stinson profile right away and never utilise it in any future engagements. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, I guess."

She sighed. "Well, I suppose not all is lost. We have an extraordinary new active who is proving herself to be a great asset to the company and we're on damage limitation with the situation in New York. I really do think we've come out on top."

"Sure…" Topher said uncertainly. "Zulu's scoring top marks across the board and will be ready for the field in a week." He grimaced. It didn't exactly make things any better.

"Oh cheer up," DeWitt said with an arctic smile. "At least you still have your job."

"Gee, thanks," Topher said, unenthusiastically.

*--*--*

_He kind-of feels like he should take a swim. He likes to swim. Every day he tries to be better. He runs, he swims and he feels every muscle and sinew move beneath his skin. _

_There's comfort in trying to be the best he can be. There's contentment in it. There's satisfaction. _

_On his way to the pool, he passes some people. The people smile and nod and he smiles and nods in return. Everyone here is trying to be their best. They all understand what's required. _

_It is good here. He likes the pool. He also likes to run. _

_He's happy here. _

_One of the people he passes is a girl, a girl with long, chestnut hair that curls and bounces on her bare shoulders as she moves. He keeps looking at her, his attention distracted so that he bumps into another one of the people on the path. _

_"I'm sorry," he says with a smile and a nod. _

_The person smiles and nods in return. _

_The girl, the girl with blue eyes and chestnut hair, she's standing by the bridge, just staring into space. _

_He thinks she's- she's-_

_She makes him feel warm inside, and good - like when he's running or swimming. She makes him want to be the best he can be. _

_He wonders if one day she'll talk to him, or if she'll just smile and nod. _

_Smile and nod. _

_He makes his way over to the pool room and stares at the water for a long while. Eventually, he kind-of feels like he should take a swim. _

_His body makes a graceful arc as he dives into the water and all other thoughts melt away. _

The End.


	6. Man Reaction

**Man reaction**

_The water cascades over his face, his neck, his collarbones, his chest. He sighs, eyes closed._

_The water is warm. _

_As he turns around he finds himself face-to-face with Echo, one of the girls. She smiles, her eyes wide and open. Behind her, there is Sierra, another one of the girls. She nods and smiles. _

_Everything is calm. Everything is how he it should be. He palms a squeeze of soap and begins to rub it into his chest, under his arm pits, because it's important to keep clean. _

_When he leaves the shower he thinks he'll do the standing-exercises, where he stretches his limbs, finds his balance… Everything is slow and even. _

_Then suddenly she is there. _

_Zulu. _

_And… she has… her body. She turns and smiles at him and it's a different smile to the others. It's like the warmth of the water and the balance from the standing-exercises and the hour he spent running on the treadmill._

_It's… he hasn't the words. _

_It's…_

_He wishes he had the words. _

_Then something happens. _

_His hands move lower and he looks down at his groin with curiosity. It feels…_

_Her gaze travel down his body and she sees it too. She gives him a questioning glance as if to say:_

_"What's that? That is new…"_

_Except she says it out loud. _

_"I don't know…" He says, genuinely bemused. "It feels good."_

_He touches it experimentally and it jerks a little. It sends tingles down his spine. Zulu closes her eyes, her own hands moving down, over her breasts, kneading the flesh. _

_He wraps his hand around the thing that's grown up between his legs and fists it. _

_"Ahhhh!" His eyes go very wide. _

_"That's new…" _

*--*--*

"She was right!" Topher hissed in Dr Saunders's ear. "It's catching!"

"What?" Saunders replied in a normal voice.

"DeWitt!" He shoved the DVD at her, his hands shaking. "Man reaction!"

"Topher…" Saunders said, warningly.

"Just watch it!" He said, through gritted teeth, hurriedly escaping her office.

*--*--*

_Afterwards, he feels peaceful. He can feel Zulu watching him as he performs the stretching exercise, as he improves his form, as he stands up high on the tip of his toes. His form is the best of the group, better even than Echo. They always tell him that. They always praise him. _

_He feels the stirring, between his legs. He's almost frustrated that he doesn't understand something that feels so good. He wants to touch himself, to run the palm of his hand over his pants but something stops him. _

_Something…_

_After this, he thinks he'll go swimming. _

*--*--*

Saunders looked very serious when she came to find him. "Okay… what do we do about this?" She said.

"Well, we don't tell _her_, that's for sure." Topher sighed, crossing his arms.

"We have to…" Saunders replied solemnly. "Tell Adelle."

"Look, she'll just order him scrubbed and you know that Whiskey's our most requested male active right now! Plus, it would totally screw with Zulu's imprint. And there's nothing wrong with what he's doing! Whiskey is just a baby."

"He's started masturbating." Saunders said, staring at him unapologetically.

Topher stuttered for a moment. "Babies… play with themselves."

"He's getting good at it!" She laughed, mirthlessly.

Topher swallowed.

"You've seen today's video?" Saunders titled her head and he could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile flicker across her lips. She was enjoying this! She was probably getting off on this, deep in that sick, twisted medical mind of hers.

"C-can't you… stop him?" Topher asked, his voice cracking.

"Stop him jerking off?"

This time, Topher blushed. "Stop him doing it so _publicly_!"

She snorted. "Yes, Topher. I'll have a word with Whiskey about his inappropriate behaviour."

"You know that won't do any good. He won't understand."

She rolled her eyes.

"Which you knew already, of course."

"Stop sending him out on romantic engagements?" Saunders suggested. "Eventually something's going to bleed through-" She stopped. "Hey, you're not still using the Barney Stinson imprint are you?"

He looked horrified. "No. Of course not!"

This time Saunders _definitely_ smirked. "Because that would explain a lot."

Topher sighed. "You know what explains it? Zulu! It's the same pattern as Victor and Sierra. Except Zulu's taken quite an interest. You've seen her watching him do it?"

Saunders sighed, her disinterested mask back firmly in place. "So scrub him, before Adelle finds out. Or before the other dolls start copying him."

"I _can't_!" Topher slapped the flat of his hand down on the table. "What about Zulu?"

Saunders shook her head. "Scrub both of them."

Topher's lips thinned into a line. "Maybe. After the next engagement."

*--*--*

Mark Plainborough ran, the soles of his Italian leather shoes slapping the concrete, his lungs straining for air. He could see the metal blast door lowering ten feet away and the case felt very heavy in his hand. With a final burst of effort he leapt for the closing gap, crashing into the ground and rolling, barely making it through.

He lay on his back on the floor, his chest burning, his stomach aching. When his vision came back into focus, he saw that she was staring down at him, grinning.

"Good to see you back, Mark..." She reached out a hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Jade," He nodded, adrenalin zinging through his veins. On impulse, he stepped forward and kissed her, pulling her into his arms. He felt her resist, then loosen up, so he gave it some tongue. When he let her go, she scowled and slapped him hard across the face. He laughed at her. She was beautiful when she was angry. The way she swept the blonde hair out of her face, the way her green eyes flashed.

"Hey?" Another woman was standing in the corridor. He didn't recognise her but there was something familiar about her… something that tickled at the back of his mind. "You got the diamonds?"

"What's it to you?" Jade answered, turning around sharply and raising her gun.

"I'm part of the Tamba team, I'm here to get you out of here."

Jade simply shrugged so he took her lead, passing her the briefcase and following both women out of the maze of corridors, through the delivery hatch and into the night air.

"That was fun…" He whispered in Jade's ear, his lips brushing the lobe. "Wanna do it again some time."

She didn't answer but he could see her smile. Yes! Yes, it was _on_!

"We need to get going…" The Tamba woman said. She'd be pretty if she let her hair down and wore some makeup. She'd be…

(_his brain does a kind-of stutter and his eyes cross for a moment. Then he snaps back…_)

"That was foolish," The Tamba woman frowned at him. "You left everything till the last moment. It was an unnecessary risk."

"What's your name?" He asked her smoothly, as they approached a black van.

She didn't smile, but her eyes danced. "Rebecca. Rebecca Conelly."

"How 'bout you and me go get a drink when this is over?" He asked her. Yeah, she'd scrub up nicely if he could get her to wear something feminine, maybe a dress and heels. Show off that figure instead of hiding it under a black jump-suit.

Jade was forgotten, although he felt a flutter of residual guilt, which wasn't like him at all.

"Can it, blondie," Rebecca said, although she was smiling. "I'm not going to fall for your lines."

"It's not a line," he said, his stomach twisting into a knot…

(_That's new_)

"I'd really like to see you again."

"Maybe after the treatment?" She said, and he knew that he'd cracked her, just a little bit.

"Can't wait, baby."

And they both ducked into the back of the van.

*--*--*

"Hello Whiskey…"

"Did I fall asleep?"

"For a little while…"

*--*--*

_He swims. _

_His line is good, through the water. Better, he feels, than it was - back in sometime, somespace, somewhen. _

_Not yesterday, because yesterday is the same as today. _

_Balance. _

_His arms propel him forward, his legs kick, rhythm, clockwork, over and over and over. _

_Until he wants to stop. _

_He can see the reflection in the water, that one of the other people is waiting to use this pool. That's strange. There are plenty of pools. _

_He swims over to the edge, hauling himself out of the water. _

_Her... _

_He blinks. "I try to be my best." His heart flutters. He's still breathing hard from the exertion. _

_Zulu smiles at him. Nods and smiles. _

_"Please speak to me?" He has no idea why he says that. _

_She looks confused. "Hello."_

_It makes him happy, hearing her voice. _

_"Swimming is good." She says. _

_A whole sentence is good, he thinks. _

_"You look… good… when you swim…" She continues, uncertainly. _

_"Thank you…" He beams. "I think I'll eat now."_

_She hesitates, then nods. "Food is good. It fuels us."_

_He nods. He wants to says something, anything, but he doesn't have the words. _

_But she looks away, takes a breath and dives into the pool. _

_He watches her swim for a few minutes, then walks away. _


	7. Peaceful

**Peaceful**

_He watches Victor. _

_He feels a… same-ness… with Victor. He sees Victor sitting with Sierra, showing her the book, and… he doesn't have the words. _

_But he thinks that Victor has been not-happy, not-calm, not-better. And this makes him feel… wrong. Echo told them that Sierra cried in her pod before Dr Saunders made Sierra better. _

_So he stares down at his lunch and he… thinks. Zulu sometimes sits with him and it makes his heart flutter. He thinks he should probably report that to Dr Saunders just in case. When he catches sight of Zulu he's sure that she's going to sit alone. He thinks that Zulu won't sit with him today. _

_He feels… he wishes he had the words. _

_He feels… lonely._

_Something/someone casts a shadow over him and sits down at the table opposite._

_She smiles as he looks up. _

_Zulu. _

_She's so beautiful. _

*--*--*

"Ted, no!" Marshall shouted, causing Lily to flinch, sitting beside him. "I'm sorry honey," he said, instantly regretful.

"Robin…" Marshall said, into his cell phone. He regretted putting it on speaker but the other two had pestered him all week. "Don't tell us where you are, okay. Don't listen to Ted! Who knows who's listening? But just… look… Can I come and meet you somewhere? I need to know that you're both safe!"

Lily squeezed his arm and Ted glowered.

"Marshall, I wish I could…" Robin's voice sounded tinny over the speaker, and very far away.

"We're worried. I'm worried. Look, let me speak to Barney. I'm sure he'll listen to sense?"

"I can't-"

"Robin, just put him on!"

"Marshall, I _can't!"_ Robin's voice sounded strange.

"Just tell me why?" Marshall exchanged glances and nods with Ted and Lily. "You're scaring us."

"Barney doesn't know who you are."

"W-what?" The word was out of Marshall's mouth before he realised that he knew exactly what Robin was talking about.

"Barney's in… some kind of default state. When they let me go, he was… he's like a child. It's like they've taken him-"

Lily took the phone and they could all hear Robin weeping. "Honey, you listen to me," Lily said in her best voice-of-authority. "You come back home right now. You come back home and we'll protect you somehow."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"Robin?" Lily repeated.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't. I'll call next week…" Robin mumbled and the phone line went dead.

"DAMN!" Marshall raged, grabbing the phone and throwing it on to the sofa.

"Well…" Ted said as Lily wiped her eyes. "That went well."

*--*--*

Robin reached out and ran her hand over the head of the man lying beside her, fingers gently ruffling the tufts of blonde hair causing him to stir and snuffle into the pillow.

"Well, I told him," Robin said, matter-of-factly, her tone masking the raging emotions inside of her. Her mind was full of plans and questions. The people running the Dollhouse were scared, they must be. It didn't make sense that they'd let her go otherwise. That powerful organisation could have killed them both by now. It seemed like only a few days since they'd escaped - days blurred into weeks when each featureless motel room looked exactly the same as the next.

Weeks blurred into months. How long _had_ it been?

"I told Marshall about you, that you're just a doll. I did it…" She breathed out, shakily, and touched his arm. "Barney…"

He opened his eyes, rubbing them sleepily. He gave her a kind of half-questioning, confused look.

"Barney…" The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. "Would it be fair? To have sex with a doll? Knowing that they don't understand… that they have no free will? Knowing that they have the body of a man and the mind of a child? Is that fair…?"

She brushed the tips of her fingers lightly over his face, tracing the hollow below cheekbone down to his jaw line, the rasp of his stubble.

"Is it fair…?"

She leaned over and kissed him, gently, watching his blue eyes - innocent, perfect, exactly what she needed.

"Barney, open your mouth," she told him. He obeyed without question so she slipped her tongue between them, enjoying the little sigh of pleasure that he made.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" She asked him. He smiled and she reached down, her fingernails scratching lightly across his bare chest, his stomach. His penis began to stiffen against her leg. "The body of a man…" She grinned, shifting herself on top of him.

"Are we going to play a game?" He asked her in a soft, expressionless voice.

"Yes Barney… oh yes…" She kissed him, his throat, just over his pulse point, feeling his heartbeat beneath her lips. She wrapped her fingers around his dick, squeezing it. "Feels better?"

"Better…" He breathed, his voice cracking as she wriggled on top of him, reaching for the stack of condoms. She didn't know what it was but these past few weeks, she just couldn't get enough of him.

Her kisses became feverish, more urgent as she rolled on the latex and sank on top of him, slowly grinding out a rhythm while he lay passively beneath her. His features contorted with pleasure as she pumped her hips, leaning forward, her hands on his shoulders as she stared into his eyes. She could feel her orgasm mounting, just beyond reach, and teased herself, fucking him hard for a few seconds before slacking off the pace, her cheeks burning hot as she denied herself release. He groaned beneath her, whimpering, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Then she felt it, the fire deep in her groin, in her belly, and she wanted… wanted…

He began to giggle…

Her eyes snapped open.

"I'm sorry…" He said as she began to slap at him in mock anger. "I couldn't keep that up…"

"I hate you!" She raged, but he bucked his hips, pushing deep inside her with one, brutal thrust and she was falling, falling, her back arching.

"No… you… don't…!" He punctuated each word with a hard thrust as she fell into oblivion, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her body.

Finally, spent and tingling, eyes tightly closed, she sagged forward, over his body. She reached out for his face, feeling he smirk beneath her fingers.

"You bastard…" She laughed.

"I said I was sorry…"

She lay down on top of him, her cheek pressed to his chest.

"Hey, that was some fantasy there, Scherbatsky."

Robin looked up at him. His voice sounded weird.

"If… that had actually happened. If they… turned me into a… doll. Would you have done that?" He sounded like a little boy.

But she wrapped her arms around him, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm, feeling the shape of him - broad shoulders, slender waist… incredible cock.

Are you _kidding_?" She said. "Of course I would."

He chuckled, his breath ruffling her hair. "Hot…"

She laughed.

After a while, he said, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" She moved back a little so that she was lying next to him, one leg still hooked around his.

"Why do you stay with me? You could go back to New York, you know that. Go back to your life." He looked serious.

"Someone has to look after you…" She said, nervously. She knew why, but she just couldn't seem to say it.

"It doesn't have to be you." He countered.

She smiled. "Yes it does." And she kissed him, hoping that he understood.

*--*--*

Topher watched Zulu's expression as he wiped her. Giving her the Robin imprint had been risky but it was what De Witt wanted. There didn't seem to be any negative lingering impact on the Tabula Rasa state, no danger of a composite episode. Still, he monitored Zulu carefully.

It was strange the way that each doll reacted so individually to such a simple procedure that took only an instant. With some, you could see the memories melt away, like ice turning to water. With some, it was painful, their features contorting in brief agony as though something of their soul were being ripped away.

With Zulu it was like a moment of the most profound peace. It was if she were being cleansed somehow. And afterwards, for a few seconds, she looked so utterly peaceful.

It was a pleasure to wipe Zulu.

Whiskey, however…

For Whiskey it was torture. Every time…


	8. Drugs

**Drugs**

One Month ago..._  
_

_  
__The British lady pours her a cup of tea. Robin's nose twitches at the smell. Her mouth is so dry. _

_"I'll be brutally honest with you, Robin. You sign up with us and you get your life back."_

_"I'm not interested in my life," Robin blurts._

_The British woman smiles her icy smile. "No, obviously not. But you'll also get __his__ life back." Robin swallows as the stack of photographs are pushed across the table. "Barney Stinson. Five years of your life, for his."_

_Robin shakes her head, but she's thinking "Isn't this what I wanted?" Her fingers splay across the photographs. They are a little blurred. Without the suit it doesn't look like Barney. His face is as expressionless as that time when she tried to talk to him and he looked right through her. He's… blank. _

_"You won't get away with this…" She said, her voice shaking because she knew they already had._

_"Sign the papers, Robin."_

_She shook her head and the British lady leaned back in her chair. She wasn't going anywhere. _

_And they had all the time in the world. _

_They had five years.  
_

_*--*-_-*

Present day...

It was two a.m. and Marshall was nodding off in front of his laptop. He wasn't twenty-five any more. He couldn't pull a bunch of all-nighters then go to work all day without it wearing him down. Two hours ago Lily had shouted at him, begging and pleading with him to come to bed.

But he couldn't sleep.

For the first time in his life, Marshall Eriksen couldn't sleep.

Not even the nightshirt helped.

He yawned, lifting a heavy hand to the screen to pull it closed but he froze mid-movement. There was something on the screen, something that triggered a memory. After so many fruitless hours of searching, he'd finally found it - a photograph of the building - the row of storefronts that had hidden the concealed entrance to the Dollhouse.

There was an email address at the bottom of the page: . Marshall swallowed and fired up his email sending a brief, speculative message before sitting back, stunned. He bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he hadn't just found a fellow searcher.

Five minutes later his cellphone rang.

*--*--*

Topher tried to ignore DeWitt, hovering over his shoulder. He still couldn't look her in the eye without blushing furiously.

"So, this is going to be a controlled experiment, yes?" His boss gently stressed the word "controlled", her tone clipped and quiet. "Five only, in their tabular rasa state, to be kept entirely physically separate from the rest of the group?"

Topher nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Topher, will you please answer me."

"Yes… Ms DeWitt," he choked.

"Oh, for god's sake man! It's over. How many times do I have to say it?"

His eyes flicked over to the drawer that used to hold his stash of candy and chips. The drawer was empty now.

"Topher Brink!" DeWitt said, placing one hand on his shoulder. She used the exact same tone his mother used on him as a child and he reacted instinctively, cowering. "If you don't snap out of this then you're no use to me."

"I saw you bouncing up and down on a trampoline! I find it kind of hard to take anything you say seriously."

She paused, taking a breath. "Look. If you don't get over this… whatever… then you're out of a job. Serious enough for you?"

Topher bent his head towards the computer screen. He knew it was an empty threat, at least till he'd fixed this problem with the actives, made them immune to the memory glitches. "Just leave me alone to do this."

DeWitt tutted. He heard her walk away but before she left the room she stopped and turned around. "This won't have any permanent effect on the actives will it?"

His lips thinned into a line. "I won't use Echo."

She shrugged, acting as though it didn't matter who was used, until he turned to look at her and an understanding passed between them.

"Good," she conceded.

*--*--*

The nice man with the mop of strawberry-blonde hair gave her a shot, which stang. She was warm and comfortable and a little restless. "Can I go now?" She asked him. "I would like to swim."

"No, Zulu," he said in his gentle voice. "You just need to stay there for a little while."

She smiled and acquiesced. The other four people in the room were relaxed and smiling too. Everything was as it should be.

She closed her eyes for a moment. This was just another treatment. Treatments made her better. Treatments were-

*--*--*

_-he leans over in bed and kisses her on the lips. She gives him a questioning glance. This isn't what they do - kiss after sex. "What was that for?"  
"Just because you're beautiful," he says, with a wicked grin. He's teasing her.  
"Barney, please don't."  
She sees the hurt in his eyes.  
"Don't now? Or don't ever?"  
She shakes her head. "I never gave you any promises. This was always going to be a one-time thing."  
"A two-time thing..."  
"Two-time thing..."  
"Two -time thing..."  
The words are stuck on repeat like an echo, slowly fading. It leaves her feeling strange, confused, somehow responsible for something, someone. She doesn't like the feeling. It is a bad feeling.  
She needs to fix it.  
_

*--*--*

Topher sighed. "Another failure I'm afraid. Zulu's had a glitch - not a traumatic one, her vitals are fine. But I'm sure you'd rather they not remember anything - that the blocks remain intact?"

DeWitt stared out the window. "That's the idea." She reached into a drawer and tossed him a juice box which he caught deftly. "Any of the others show any signs?"

He shook his head. "So far, just Zulu. Tango and Juliet are stable. Lima's holding up like a trooper.

"And Whiskey?" DeWitt asked, trying to keep her voice light, but he could tell which dolls were her favourites. He'd only included Zulu and Whiskey to irritate her, he certainly didn't _intend_ to screw things up.

"Ah. We've had to isolate him."

"What?" DeWitt raised her voice for the first time since the… "crisps incident".

"We can't wipe him again until the drug is out of his system."

"Topher!" She said, warningly.

"Okay, okay. He had an extreme reaction, pretty similar to Victor's in the last batch. Apparently his handler missed something in the de-brief of his last mission."

"Topher, how can these ghost fragments remain after a wipe? I thought everything was removed."

"It is."

"Then it's not a memory from a mission, is it? It's a memory from before he came here."

Topher slapped his forehead. "Of course! I've been so stupid."

DeWitt gave him a questioning look.

"I know how to fix this."

*--*--*

"Yes, I've emailed you the photographs," Marshall said into the phone. MacLaren's was quiet at that time of day with only Doug behind the bar and Wendy fussing about, cleaning tables. "Can you do anything with them? No, that's Stinson. S T I N S O N. Yes. The bank account's a dead end?" Marshall slammed his hand down against the bar. "Damn!"

Doug looked up at his with a curious look and Marshall mouthed "Sorry Dude."

"No," he continued down the phone. "No, please keep me up to date. I have to find them, expose them. It's the only way we'll be able to convince Robin to bring Barney back to New York. It's the only way to get Barney's life back. Thanks. Talk to you later."

Marshall sighed, wishing he could talk to Lily and Ted about this. But he knew what their reaction would be. He had a suspicion that the both of them no longer believed anything he's told them about LA had actually happened.

"You okay man?" Doug asked, but Marshall waved him away, heading out.

A few moments after Marshall had left, the phone rang. A British woman's voice spoke just four words and Doug's expression changed completely from happy-go-lucky to focused and determined.

"He was just here," Doug said, his accent slightly altered. "He's definitely communicating to Ballard." The bartender spoke for a few moments, then the British woman replied with a short, meaningless sentence.

Doug shook himself then smiled brightly. "Hey, Wendy - go take a break? Get some fresh air. This place is dead."

Wendy grinned. "Thanks Doug! You're such a great guy!"

Doug smiled placidly and went back to his line of beer bottles, whistling a happy tune.

*--*--*

_He's crying. He can't stop crying. He pulls his knees up tight against his chest, great sobs wracking his body. He's crying about something… someone… a flash of harsh, brutal memory, of Shannon… all he has is a name and the memory is fading fast, too fast, the memory is going but the pain remains. _

_It's like someone stabbed him in the heart. _

_He needs James, needs his brother. Needs his reassuring smile and his arms around him, just like when he slipped and hurt his knee. _

_But James is fading too. James is a wisp of a ghost of a memory. _

_He needs Robin, needs her near him, just near him, just as a friend because she's never going to want anything more. He loves her, loves her, and all his attempts at killing that feeling have only resulted in making it so much worse. _

_Robin, her smile, her hair, the way she smells when he sits down next to her in the booth. _

_He loves her. _

_He can't remember. _

_He can't-_

_"Are you sad?"_

_He looks up, his face still wet, although he has no idea why he was crying. "N-no." The word sticks in his throat as he tries to speak. It confuses and scares him. _

_"You should go and see the doctor. It is not-good to cry." There's a girl in the doorway. She has long brown hair and blue eyes. She's... _

_He smiles and sniffs. _

_"I'll take you there," the girl says, pulling him to his feet. She has an earnest look on her face and doesn't release his hand until they get to Saunder's office. "Doctor," she announces. "You have to help him."_

_Saunders smiles and gestures to him to lie on the table. "That's fine, Zulu, you may leave." _

_The girl, Zulu, hovers by the door. _

_"Zulu…?" Saunders shoos her away._

_He lays on his back, his eyes feeling sticky. "There's a pain," he says, "in my chest."_

_"A pain?" She asks him, looking concerned. _

_"In my chest and my belly." He tries to explain. "A feelings pain."_

_He doesn't understand the expression that flickers across Dr Saunder's face but she nods quickly and tilts her head. _

_"Let's see what we can do about that, shall we?"_

_He nods and closes his eyes. _

_And he tries to stop feeling sad and be better instead. _


	9. Video Nasty

**Video nasty**

Topher burst in on DeWitt, already half way through a sentence before realising she had company. He stopped in his tracks, stuttering to a halt mid-sentence.

"This is Mr Brink," Adele introduced him to the well dressed man sitting at her desk.

"Hi," Topher said weakly, attempting to convey the nature of the emergency using only his eyes and his fixed grin. "Uh… Ms DeWitt? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

She followed him out of the room and dragged him into an adjacent office. He could feel the tension mounting with every step, like a storm, the static electricity making the hairs on his arms stand on end. But she didn't rumble or explode. She bit her tongue and snapped. "This better be good!"

Wordlessly, he slipped the USB key from his pocket and stuck it into the side of the laptop on the desk, powering it up. Gesturing for her to sit down, he fired up the video.

"It's not good," he said quietly, averting his eyes as the video began to play. Topher watched her instead - watching for DeWitt's reaction, for a wince, for a flinch, for any kind of emotion. But there was nothing but a slight tightening around the eyes. Oh, she was good!

She didn't ask why he'd brought the video - it was pretty obvious. So he watched her for five minutes before hitting pause.

"That goes on for about five hours," he said, letting the words sink in. Again, there was very little reaction although Topher's own stomach tightened into a knot at the thought.

"You watched it all?" DeWitt's voice betrayed a little of the distress that she was managing to hide. Topher knew she was hiding it. No one could watch that and not be effected.

He shook his head, "I watched ten second segments throughout-"

"Has Saunders seen this?"

"Not yet. I brought it straight to you as soon as I verified it was genuine - no CGI."

DeWitt was silent for a moment, then she reached out and un-paused the video, watching it for a little while longer. She didn't ask how this could happen. She didn't shout at him.

Somehow that was worse.

"Well done for finding this." DeWitt said.

He felt a wave of relief. "We're lucky there are so many facial close-ups or my automated search-bots might not have picked up on it."

Topher had initiated an automatic protocol to trawl television and web broadcasts, looking for actives. The Dollhouse were surprisingly adept at hiding or masking footage and most of the actives had no one who'd be looking for them anyway. Most of them.

"You've managed to delete the video from the originating website? Erased it?" DeWitt asked him, folding her hands over her lap and sitting up straight.

"Yes. Luckily in time to stop any viral spread. But we need to get hold of the original."

She nodded. "We'll send in one of our own for this." Suddenly there was a scream, long and piercing from the laptop speakers. This time, to Topher's satisfaction, DeWitt did flinch. "Topher…" She said, sounding shaken. "How is it possible for someone to… subject… an active… to _that_… without the handler picking up on it? How did Dr Saunders not flag something after the mandatory physical."

Topher shook his head. That had freaked him out a little, too. "There's only one logical conclusion," he said with a sigh, and a little bit of envy. "Someone out there is one step ahead of us."

DeWitt nodded brusquely. "Then we'd better start running as soon as possible, hadn't we?"

Topher exhaled with frustration, his gaze drawn back to the screen, to the wide, terrified blue eyes that filled it. "Ma'am… We'd better invent a jet car."

*--*--*

"The victim was held for approximately five hours before being released, not counting the time they were incarcerated without being subjected to direct abuse."

Andrea Carlisle sat back with a frown. She didn't look particularly disgusted but she was suitably determined. "So this is a simple cut and run job?"

Topher couldn't help but smile. He watched "Andrea" carefully. Oh, this imprint was good, it was very good. It was a masterpiece of good. And the irony of using Zulu wasn't lost on him.

He knew that DeWitt had a bit of a thing for poetic justice.

Of course, Dominic had objected, strenuously to all of this. And DeWitt had ignored him and gone straight to Topher.

"This is a matter of honour," she'd said.

He'd been surprised.

"If the client wanted to pay for that kind of non-consensual engagement, he should have specified it at the start of negotiations. We can't allow ourselves to be cheated out of that kind of money." But she'd smiled that lizard smile of hers and Topher had known that wasn't the reason.

Oh no, it was revenge.

He looked into Zulu-Andrea's eyes and he saw that deep spark of anger.

DeWitt wanted this man, this client, torn apart. She would never have agreed to subject one of her actives to what he'd done to them. Especially not…

Andrea Carlisle nodded and reached out to take the folder. "You know who he is, where, when this happened? This is too easy. You don't need me."

"Oh, I think we do. We've got a very special punishment lined up for this man," DeWitt said, as though she were relishing the words. "And we need someone neat and tiny. The kill room must be wiped clean when the engagement is over."

Zulu-Andrea shrugged. "It's your money. Just tell me what you want… " She ran her finger carefully over the photograph of the client, over his nose and his lips. "Although I think I can make a few suggestions."

"You love your work," DeWitt said, showing her teeth. "And I appreciate that."

Topher rolled his eyes. He bet she did.

*--*--*

Topher interviewed the handler, he talked to Saunders and he monitored the Doll.

He checked the logs for glitches and he analysed and reanalysed the blood tests, medicals, pre-wipe info.

Trouble is, at this time, the person he really needed to talk to didn't even exist any more. And that person would probably have been too traumatised to respond without months of therapy.

It was lucky that the wipe process was so successful, his blocks so perfect.

It was a shame that he couldn't use them to wipe out his own memory of the active's ordeal.

Some part of him really, really wished that they could video everything Andrea Carlisle did to that sick bastard just so that he could watch it over and over.

*--*--*

She came back, covered in blood. Zulu's handler didn't seem overly concerned but Topher met them in person and escorted Zulu up to the lab.

"I only wish we could stop that sort of thing happening in the first place," the girl said, matter-of-factly, while Topher settled her down on to the reclining couch. "What happened to him anyway?"

"Who?" Topher asked, prepping the computer for the wipe.

"The victim? His victim? Is he okay? That poor man…"

Topher smiled sadly and shook his head. "He's okay. We've made sure he's okay."

Zulu-Andrea smiled and nodded her head with approval. "Because if it makes you feel any better, that bastard survived for two hours after I cut his dick off."

Topher swallowed, his hand automatically flying down to cover his groin. "Ah… good…?" He shook himself. Perhaps a video of that wouldn't have been a good idea after all. "Right… you're going to feel a little pinch…"

Zulu-Andrea closed her eyes.

*--*--*

Topher watched Zulu walking slowly across the floor of the ZenGarden, down below. That was a nasty one. Normally, the content of the encounters didn't affect him like this. Okay, so perhaps he was more riled up by the fact that someone out there had discovered a way to fool their neural transmitters, to fool the handlers, to fool HIM…

Someone out there had managed to take one of their actives and subjecting him to five hours of sexual torture without anyone being aware of it. And they'd have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for his new web broadcast search parameters…

Alpha? Was he behind this?

The client had said that he'd been contacted by an anonymous source, that he'd been given the drug to use on the active, given the video camera, told to upload it onto the website.

The client had given _everything_ up once Zulu-Andrea had got to work on him.

Zulu strode serenely over to the resting area, where Whiskey was sitting curled up on one of the low sofas.

They'd found the bruises, the tearing, the tiny signs of a struggle. Dr Carlton had put it all down to the original intent of the engagement. Whiskey had been imprinted as bi-curious, looking for his first homosexual experience. It had all been pretty tame. Since the neural transmitters hadn't shown any distress on Whiskey's part, no one had thought anything non-consensual had occurred.

Certainly, no-one had suspected the truth.

No one had suspected that Whiskey had been through five hours of hell.

He's been semi-unconscious when he'd been brought in. Whiskey hadn't said a word as he'd been wiped. They'd thought he was drunk.

The alcohol had fooled the drugs test - masked the subtle compound that was used.

Alpha.

Sadistic son-of-a-bitch.

When they caught him, Topher hoped he'd be there. He really, really hoped he'd be there.

At a safe distance, of course.

*--*--*

The delicious smell of bacon frying woke Marshall from his dead-sleep. He felt an immediate sense of guilt wash over him and weigh him down. Yes, Lily making him breakfast was also incredible, but he hated that she was doing so because she wanted to make up for their constant fighting.

He was keeping too many secrets from her.

Marshall had never before felt there was any danger of he and Lily breaking up because of something he consciously decided to do. He'd always told himself that he could never hurt her, that Lily always came first, no matter what.

But now…

He hated this, hated this responsibility. He hated knowing what he knew, hated having seen what he'd seen. He even hated Ballard a little for sending him the website the previous evening.

He couldn't cope with this on his own.

He decided that he had to show the video to Ted and Lily, just a short piece, one of the least gross pieces.

Jesus…

The whole thing was totally… It made him sick to the stomach. It made him shake with anger.

But he had to show them, make them see.

He had to prove to his wife and his best friend that Robin was lying.

He had to show them exactly what was happening.

He only hoped that Barney was still alive and, if he was, that someone was looking out for him.

*--*--*

_She sinks down on to the sofa next to him. He's staring into space, his expression thoughtful rather than blank, concerned rather than peaceful. _

_She drapes one arm around his shoulder and he leans in towards her, hooking his feet under him and pressing himself close. She sits there and holds him. He feels warm under her arms, she can feel his chest expand and contract. _

_Zulu feels something… some need… to take care of him. It gives her satisfaction. It makes her feel better, stronger, as good as she can be. _

_When she lets Whiskey go, he smiles at her and there is peace again in his blue, blue eyes. _

_"You are very beautiful," she says, blinking in surprise at her own words. _

_"Thank you." _

_"Would you like to eat now?"_

_"Eating makes us strong…" He gets to his feet, reaching out a hand for hers. _

_"It does," she says. "It is good to be strong."_

_She feels a flutter of something inside…_

_But she doesn't have the words. _


	10. Closure

**Closure**

_Everything is dark and muzzy. He doesn't know who he is, where he is, which way's up, even. He cracks open one eyelid. _

_Doesn't help. _

_Except… he knows this place, this tiny basement full of shadows. Just like he knows his own name but he can't seem to find the actual words. _

_He's tied to a chair. He shifts his weight back and forth and feels the chair rock beneath him. There are ropes around his chest, holding his arms in tight to his sides but his hands are free. _

_Amateurs!_

_Why did he just think that?_

_He opens up his other eyes. It isn't much better. _

_There's a table in front of him; a wooden table on which sits a single lamp, a large manila folder stuffed with paper, an old-fashioned triangular-based telephone, its cable snaking over to the wall and… well... a gun. _

_He parks that thought because it's too big, too daunting to fix on - it slips away as he raises his head to try and focus. Beyond the table is someone else tied to a chair, or there's a mirror. _

_He shakes his head and the other person, wreathed in darkness, remains still. Not a mirror then… perhaps... another person? _

_A girl. And she's out cold._

_So he thinks… You're tied to a chair in a room with an unconscious chick, a phone, a bunch of paper and a gun. _

_What do you do?_

_Go…_

*--*--*

Twelve hours earlier…

The commotion disturbed the other dolls. Zulu screamed the place down before they managed to sedate her. Her handler was right about her - bad engagement.

But very quickly Topher realised it wasn't just a regular bad engagement. Zulu was glitching and from the hurried exchange he had with Zulu's handler, he suddenly knew that she's been glitching for a good half hour. Why hadn't he spotted it?

Alpha again?

Okay, now this was getting really, really weird.

"We have to tell Adele," Saunders said, standing at the door. Whiskey stood behind her, peering over her shoulder, but she waved him away.

"Are you kidding? I told her twice already…" Topher growled. He was angry, he realised, and it was clouding his judgement, making it hard to think straight.

"Then tell her again," Saunders suggested in her calm, reasonable voice.

"She'll send them both to the attic!"

Saunders shrugged. "Whiskey's too valuable."

Topher laughed. "We haven't been able to imprint Whiskey since… well, you put him on a time out."

"He needs to heal."

Topher looked down at the unconscious woman, her cheeks still ruddy from screaming. "They both do."

Saunders shrugged. "Then tell her?"

Topher shot Zulu with another sedative. He needed more time.

*--*--*

_He finds the end of the rope at around the same time that the girl wakes up. _

_"What-?" She mumbles, trying to focus. She begins to struggle but quickly realises the futility. Then she focuses on the desk and narrows her eyes. _

_All in the space of ten seconds, she's worked it out, she's calm again and she's trying to free herself. She's good… she's better than him… but he's got a head start. _

_She's wriggling her body (and he's trying not to stare at her boobs as they jiggle… focus… focus…) and she's got one arm free already before he's even unwound the rope to his elbows. Her technique is crude but effective, shimmying until she's free. The ropes were hardly an sturdy restraint, after all. _

_It's almost like someone wanted them to get free…_

_Then she is. _

_She lunges across to the table the exact same moment that he does and, for a second, his heart skips a beat just before his hand lands on the telephone receiver. _

_But she's gone for the gun. _

_He freezes, the hand-set half way up to his ear. He can hear the dial-tone, the low clickclickclick. _

_"Put that down…" She says. _

_He doesn't move. _

_"Put that down…" She repeats. _

_"No," he says, quietly. _

_She looks at him quizzically. _

_"Shoot me…" He suggests. _

_She hesitates, of course. There's a beat, when she doesn't know what to do, then she slowly lowers the gun, half way, not exactly threatening him but not letting him off the hook either. _

_And, because the tension breaks, he finds himself laughing, almost giggling, and it's a moment before he can catch his breath and notice her incredulous look. _

_"I totally… knew…" He says, between each gulp of air, "that you wouldn't shoot." She shakes her head, but the corners of her lips twitch with amusement. "So what is this? Some kind of test?" He asks her._

_"I don't know," she says, her voice warm and rich. "I don't remember anything. Not even my name!"_

_He chuckles and says "Neither do I!"_

_"Then why are you laughing?"_

_"Are you kidding? Locked in a darkened room with a hot chick with a gun? This is __awesome__!"_

_She rolls her eyes and suddenly he remembers something. Not his name, but hers. He remembers hers. _

_Robin. _

*--*--*

Ten hours earlier...

"They're both glitching," Topher said, sulkily, in an I-told-you-so tone of voice.

"Both?" Adele sounded surprised, and irritated. "What do you recommend?"

Topher shook his head, incredulously. "What I recommended last week, and the week before. What you refused."

Adele's lips thinned. "I told you, only the priority cases."

"But we know it works!"

They were going over old ground.

Saunders stepped in. "Look, for what it's worth, Topher and I have come up with a safer… solution… than the one we used with Echo, Victor, Sierra, November and Mike… Safer for the dolls… Actives… I'm not sure what to-?"

"Actives," Topher said firmly. "They will be imprinted with a portion of their own latent memories. Just enough to work through their issues and find closure."

Saunders smirked.

"What?" He asked her.

"Those two? Work through their issues?"

He shook his head. "Huh?"

She rolled her eyes.

*--*--*

_He probably shouldn't have kissed her. _

_He clutches his cheek, still smarting from the blow, while she leafs through the folder in angry silence. Eventually she stops and takes in a deep breath. _

_"I mean… who does that?" She demands, hands on hips. "Who just goes up to someone they've never met and-"_

_"I have met you. I know that I know you. I even know your name."_

_"Barney, I-" She closes her mouth so quickly that her teeth snap together. _

_"And hey, you know mine!" He crows triumphantly. But before he can say anything she starts pulling out photographs from the folder and sliding them across the table top towards him. He recognises the face, his finger resting on one of them - a blonde guy with a twinkle in his eye and a pinball grin. _

_"That's you…" She says, exasperatedly. _

_"Yeah it is!" He says, with a grin that no-doubt matches it's double in the photo. _

_He points to another. "That's you."_

_"I worked that out," she snaps, and he can tell that beneath her bluster, she's scared. _

_"Let's get out of here," he suggests. _

_"We tried that. We tried calling 911. Stop making stupid suggestions!" _

_"How about we call this guy?" He says with a smirk, pointing to the photo of a smiling, brown haired dude. It was clipped to a piece of paper with a prominent telephone number written on it. _

_"Marshall Eriksen…" She reads with a frown. "You recognise that name?"_

_"Yep."_

_"Remember anything about the guy?"_

_"Nope…"_

_"Me neither, that's weird."_

_She picks up the phone and hesitates before handing it to him. "You do it?"_

_But his gaze is drawn to one particular photograph on the table. He takes the phone from her wordlessly, hooking the receiver between his shoulder and his neck. _

_"I think that's my brother…" He says. _

*--*--*

The telephone rang three times before the answer phone kicked in.

"Hello… this is Barney…."

"And Robin…"

"I have no idea who you are, dude-"

"We have no idea who we are!"

"Or where we are, but if you know who we are…"

"Or where we are?"

"Or where we are, come get us!"

"Did we do that right, yeah?"

"I don't think so."

"Crap."

"Goodbye random dude."

"Goodbye Marshall."

Click…

In the van outside of the apartment, just down-wind of the sewerage treatment plant, there were two men dressed in black. One was wearing headphones. The other was talking into a cell phone.

"Just got it," he said, nodding to the man monitoring the apartment on a video screen. "Yeah, will pick up the target. No trouble. Ten minute check on my mark-" Both men tapped a button on their watches. "All set, Ms DeWitt," the man with the phone announced, as behind them, Lily Aldrin stood at the front door to her building, searching through her purse for her keys.

*--*--*

_He's leafing through the folder when she taps him on the shoulder. _

_"I think… " He says slowly, thoughtfully, looking up at her. "I think I volunteered for this… experiment. I think I purposefully wiped all these people out of my memory. Marshall. My brother. You…" He closes the file and she takes it out of his hands before it can drop to the floor. "I think… " He swallows… "I think that was a pretty shitty thing to do…"_

_She kneels on the floor beside him. "Perhaps I did that too…" She shakes her head, as if denying the possibility. "I think… we should get out of here."_

_His shoulders slump. "We tried, remember?" But she's already on her feet and striding for the door, whipping out her gun. She tells him to cover his ears before firing round after round into the handle at close range. _

_When she's done, the door click's open. _

_But he's starting to feel woozy. "I think…" He says, sadly. "I think I'm a horrible person. I think… I just wanted to say sorry to those people. The people I wiped out. I wonder if they'll even want to hear it?" His vision swims, he feels so tired suddenly. So tired. _

_"Barney?" She says, alarmed. "Barney, I think I'm supposed to get you out of here. That's what I'm supposed to do… Barney, speak to me?" There's a catch in her voice as she helps him to his feet, supporting him as they make for the door, but he's already so sleepy. _

_Finally it hits him and he laughs. "I know where we are… basement of MacLaren's! We're in the basement of MacLaren's Robin. They're all just through there and up the stairs. Just through there… Everyone…" He mumbles something and stumbles, because it's harder for her to support his weight when his feet won't seem to work. _

_Outside the door, she sets him down next to a crate of beer, the stench of hops cloying in his lungs as he takes huge, ragged gulps of air. It feels like he's drowning._

_"Barney!" She says desperately, patting his face. His eyes spring open, but the lids quickly droop again. "We're free… we got out…" She sounds weird, like she's crying. "We're free but… god…"_

_He slumps against her and he can feel something wet and warm, a droplet hits his face. _

_"Barney, I'm sorry!" She yells, shaking him. "This is all my fault! I should never have said… Jesus, wake up! How can I tell you… I lo- That I lov- if you're just going to pass out on me! Barney!! Barney __please__! I lov-"_

_And then he slumps forward, out cold. _

_Seconds later, she joins him. _

*--*--*

Topher watched as they brought Whiskey and Zulu out of the experimental area, the two dolls carried on stretchers and deposited into the infirmary for Saunders to fuss over them. He feels something stir inside him as if something's unfinished. The intercom crackles and he jabs a button.

"Mad scientist lab!" he said brightly.

"Topher, the NY operatives need you to send the those imprints, as quickly as possible." It was DeWitt's clipped tones, of course.

He sighed. "I'm on it. Jesus…" His fingers flew over the keys, as he transferred the files. "Done!"

"And Whiskey will be with you soon. He's to go straight out on an engagement."

"I know, I know. I'm on that too." He stood, his fingers tracing patterns on the plexi-glass wall to retrieve the correct imprint.

"And there won't be any trouble?"

Topher paused, scrubbing a section of the imprint which flared red. "No trouble."

"Good."

*--*--*

A few days later…

_He runs. His limbs loosen, his muscles warm and buzz. Each footfall makes a soft thudding sound in time to the rhythmic beating of his heart. Someone gets on the machine beside him but he's focused, so focused, he doesn't look. _

_He doesn't see her watching him, glancing at him. Doesn't notice that she followed him in. Doesn't notice that she sat next to him at lunch. Doesn't notice her attempts to make basic conversation with him. _

_As far as he's concerned he's just another one of them. Another person who needs to be their best. _

_Being the best is good. _

_Eventually, the machine slows, runs down and stops. He grabs a towel and mops the perspiration from his face and neck. It's soaked through his clothing. He should shower now. _

_Zulu, the girl on the next machine stares at him, something indefinable in her wide eyes. _

_He looks straight through her, feeling nothing. _


	11. Watching

**Watching**

_"You hateful little man!" _

_Zulu looked up, craning her neck, noticing the raised voices and the commotion in one of the glass-fronted rooms above her._

_"You hateful, hurtful little man!" Dr Saunders, who Zulu had never heard raise her voice above a gentle whisper, was shouting, crying. She was very upset. _

_"Hey! Hey!!" Topher raised his hands in front of him, defensively. Zulu headed for the stairs, disturbed by the noise. Several of the other dolls had stopped what they were doing. _

_"What do you think is happening?" November asked her, wide-eyed. _

_"I think Whiskey did something wrong," Zulu replied, a knot of worry growing in her stomach. _

_She didn't like this. She felt a little scared. But normally when any of them got scared, they just went to see Dr Saunders, or Topher, and they would take the pain away. _

_But how could either of them fix this when they seemed so unhappy themselves?_

*--*--*

**Twelve hours earlier**

Marshall collapsed into the sofa, kicking off his shoes and laying back. He closed his eyes, fingers digging into his forehead. He had a tension headache to end all tension headaches.

He was right. He knew he was right.

But how could he be right?

"Hey, you okay sweetie?" Lily said, kneeling behind him and handing him a beer.

Marshall took a swig, but the liquid caught in his throat and made him gag.

"Hey, steady!" His wife said with a tinkling laugh.

He sighed. "Lil…" He said, falteringly. "At work today, I saw something weird. And it made me… think… About stuff."

"About the Dollhouse?" Lily asked with a hint of disapproval. Marshall knew that Ted and Lily thought he was driving himself too hard over it, to the point of unhealthy obsession. He also knew that they missed Robin and Barney too, in their own way. But Ted was burying the pain, Ohio-style, and Lil, she just… Well, she'd said, matter-of-factly, that the three of them had been fine before Barney or Robin had come into their lives and they would be again.

But how could she think that? What if it had been one of them that had been taken by the Dollhouse? What if it had been Ted, or, god forbid, her?

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I was in a meeting with John MacBride today," he began.

"Oh my god!" Lily said. "The head of GNB?"

"Actually, he's the CEO of Altrucell. This guy's huge." And intimidating. He scared the crap out of Marshall. In fact, the only guy Marshall could ever remember not being scared by Mr McBride was Barney, who called him "Johnny" and had apparently played golf with the dude. Golf!

"Anyways," Marshall continued, "he was acting really weird. Making these crazy decisions that didn't make sense to anybody. And when he signed a bunch of contracts later, he used his left hand."

Lily looked at him blankly and Marshall had to explain that John McBride used his right hand to make notes through the meeting. And he'd even tackled Billson about it and he had told him that, no, McBride wasn't ambidextrous. "Don't you see what this means?" He said, desperately. Lily shook her head. "He's a doll. I think McBride is a doll." Lily opened her mouth to protest but Marshall waved her down. "No, no, it makes perfect sense. Think about it. If they have the technology to mind-wipe anyone and put in a different personality, they could do that to anyone. Governors, business leaders, even the freakin' president!"

Lily frowned. She even looked a little sad. "Marshall, no… I think you-"

"Lil, don't you see?" He said desperately, willing her to believe him, to support him, just because she was his wife and his best friend. Her shoulders sagged and she gave him a reluctant nod.

"It makes a certain kind of twisted sense, I suppose." She conceded.

"I only wish that Barney was here," Marshall said. "He'd know for sure. And he'd know what to do."

"But he isn't," Lily said, using her most firm school-mistress voice. "And you need to ease up on this Dollhouse thing, Marshmallow! I don't want to lose you too."

He drew her into a hug and held on to her for a long, long while. Perhaps she was right. He didn't want to lose her either. Nor Ted. There had been too many casualties already. Perhaps he should just let it go?

Marshall closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet perfume of Lily's hair.

He didn't see her silently thumb the button on the recording device in her hand. Or the look of satisfaction on her face as she did so.

*--*--*

**Six hours later**

Topher sauntered into the MedLab with a smirk that could only mean he was cooking up some scheme - probably involving complicated electronic wizardry. Or possibly juice boxes.

Claire sighed and tried her best to ignore him, continuing with her standard post-engagement inspection. She's long since lost her inhibitions about the dolls being naked. They were just bodies that she needed to fix.

Even if some of the bodies were more… interesting… than others.

From a purely medical standpoint.

Some of the males really were excellent examples of the human physique.

(and that's why she spent more time with a certain doll than with all the others, she told herself)

"Happy birthday," Topher said, breaking her concentration. She looked up sharply and scowled at him.

"Topher…" She said, warningly. This was her kingdom and he was an uninvited guest. He didn't seem to take the hint.

"So, what're you doing to celebrate?" Topher grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively until she gave him a stony glare. Celebrate? Did he really think that getting one year older was something to celebrate. "Nah, right. You haven't left for four months. You really should get out more."

She narrowed her eyes. "You read my file? You had no right…"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I had to read it - part of the imprint de-brief when Echo interrogated you."

"Sure…" She turned away from him, just hoping he'd go, just wanting to be left alone with her… work. No one understood. No one knew how hard it was to work with so few medical staff, to be the only full-time doctor here for up to forty dolls. She didn't have time for a personal life.

"I got you a present…" Topher continued, tentatively.

This surprised her. "You- what?"

"It's a surprise…"

*--*--*

_Zulu watches as Whiskey's handler takes him up the stairs. She tries smiling at him but there is barely a flicker of interest or recognition. She wonders if this is her fault. Is she not her best?_

_"Am I not my best?" She mutters. _

_The handler pauses midway up the staircase and looks back at her. "Is everything okay Zulu?" He asks her. _

_She nods and smiles. She wants to ask him why… something. Why… something… Why… _

_She turns around because it is time for her to swim. But she misses… she feels a loss. There was a time when Whiskey would watch her swim. _

_Now he never watches her at all. _

*--*--*

Claire feels his eyes on her and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in the instant before she turns around.

"Heard you could use some help?"

It's him, Whiskey, standing in the doorway while she gives Sierra an exam. It's Whiskey, but not. He's active. She can see the flash of intelligence in his blue eyes, the smirk that gave away the imprint personality. .

Plus he was wearing a white coat.

"Topher sent me. Said you needed an extra hand. It being your birthday and all."

She shook her head, feeling herself flush. She hated dealing with the actives. That's why she always stipulated that they bring her only dolls. She got them only after the wipe had been performed. They were less than children then, totally trusting, totally blank.

Whiskey, like this, standing there and acting like a… man. Winking at her. That, she couldn't cope with.

She also wondered… did Topher know? Did they all know? Had they figured out that she always took special care with Whiskey, spent a little more time, found more excuses to touch him in ways that went beyond a simple medical exam. It wasn't… abuse, exactly. But now she was deeply embarrassed.

And so, perversely, because she was that kind of woman - the kind that bent but didn't break - she smiled shyly and nodded. "Yes… " she said, quietly, hesitantly. "Some help would be wonderful, thank you."

She swallowed. If nothing else, the time would go by so much more quickly with someone else by her side.

*--*--*

They worked together for five hours. Whiskey watched her carefully and he was good at his job, using just the right tone of voice with the dolls and instinctively knowing what she needed exactly when she needed it. That's why it freaked her out so badly when he made a move on her.

Claire was leaning over one of the dolls, Echo, examining a bruise on her back, when Whiskey touched her face.

"A good plastic surgeon could fix that for you, no problem. In fact, I know someone, if you want-"

She pulled away from his fingers, her cheek tingling where they had traced the line of her scar. "Don't-" she said, the word stuttering in her throat. "I don't want-" She swallowed. The touch felt too intimate, too invasive. She didn't want it, she didn't, but at the same time she craved it, from him, from anyone. She just wished…

"Shhh…" He said, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to. It doesn't… detract. It doesn't make you any less beautiful…" His words were so sincere, so heartfelt, that for a moment Claire was drawn in, drawn in as easily as one of the Dollhouse's clients.

Then she just felt stupid.

And angry.

Because he was programmed to do this. He had no choice.

No man would ever _really_ want her. Not when she looked like this. Not after _Alpha_…

She stormed into the imprint room. "You hateful little man!" She growled at Topher. "You hateful, hurtful little man!"

Topher shook his head, baffled by her tears.

"Take him away. Take Whiskey away. That you could think that I'd… share myself so intimately… that I could make _love_… with a doll! That you could _think_ that… it shows just how sick you are, Topher Brink!"

"But I didn't!" Topher protested. "I swear. That would be… god, that would be gross! I only imprinted him with a basic medical programme. He's not a sex toy. He's just a guy!"

She shook her head, her face still wet with tears.

"Saunders - really, you think I'd-? Crap…"

She shook her head and walked away, with as much dignity as she could muster.

When she got back to the exam room, he, Whiskey, was still there, although he'd sent Echo away. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" She hated the sob, the hitch in her voice, the betrayal of her weakness and her despair.

"For touching you. It was… presumptuous."

She shook her head, her lips twitching at his phrasing. "It was…" She said. Although she wanted it… needed it… his touch. "I don't… want the surgery to correct… this." She admitted, sweeping one hand across her scarred face. "I want to remember."

There was a kindness in his eyes that was heart-breaking. "Something tells me that you will never forget. Even if you got the surgery. The man who did that to you… he cut you more deeply than that."

The tears came again. So many tears after so long a dry-spell.

"Hey… hey!" He said, coming to her, putting his arms around her, pulling her to him. She sighed, pressing her face against his chest. He pulled away a little, one finger under her chin, raising her face to his. "You are beautiful. You just have to let yourself believe that."

And then he kissed her.

*--*--*

_Zulu watches. _

_She stands outside the med lab where the door has been left open just a crack and she watches them. _

_She watches as Whiskey pushes Dr Saunders back onto the exam room table, pushing up her skirt, spreading her legs. _

_Her eyes go wide as she sees Whiskey tugging at the doctor's underwear, pulling it over her slendar thighs, her knees, over her ankles. She sees his hand disappear beneath the doctor's white lab coat. _

_She sees the doctor grimace, like she's in pain, but it's a good pain. She sees the doctor cry out as Whiskey pushes her down, as he covers her mouth with his own, as if he's stealing her voice, her breath, her life. _

_Zulu feels a burn in her belly, between her own legs as she sees Whiskey pull back, settling his body between the doctor's legs and push himself forward, his bottom rising and falling as the doctor throws her head back and cries out. _

_Zulu watches what happens and struggles to understand. _

_She watches and watches and feels something new - dissatisfaction, anger, emotions that she's never known. _

_Jealousy. _

_And she determines to be her best. Be better. Be the one he notices again. _

_She can do this. _

_She can. _


	12. Tag

**Tag**

_Zulu is… dissatisfied._

When it is time for her to see Dr Saunders, Whiskey is there. And Whiskey isn't normal-Whiskey, he's Whiskey-in-the-white-coat, which makes her… uncomfortable. Because when she sees him, she feels… fluttery. She… there are images, in her mind… of Whiskey and Dr Saunders. And Zulu feels like, sometimes, at the pool, when her body tires before she has swam the correct number of lengths. Or when she's running, and her legs cramp. 

_She's not her best and she can never be her best while Whiskey-in-the-white-coat is examining her. But she has this urge to talk to him because you are supposed to tell the doctor everything. You are supposed to talk to the doctor. _

_If the doctor is Whiskey then it doesn't change anything. _

_But…_

_But…_

_A few days ago, she was taken up for her treatment, and she saw Topher and Sierra running across the zen floor. Running! You didn't run on the zen floor. You walked. You walked. _

_And Topher and Sierra were wearing vests with lights and yelling and… there were images in her head. _

_Whiskey-in-the-white-coat._

_Whiskey-in-a-vest-with-lights. _

_Running. _

_Blinking lights._

_So vivid. So vivid. _

_Whiskey tilts his head. It's not only the white coat, she realises, it's everything. The way he's looking at her. The way he looks at Doctor Saunders. _

_After Zulu saw Topher and Sierra running, the men took her back to the place where she sleeps. _

_(so vivid…) _

_Whiskey blinks once, and frowns. "I don't-" he beings, softly, curiously, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to hers. _

*--*--*

It was late when Marshall arrived home from work. Each day at GNB seemed achingly empty and yet ridiculously busy, all at the same time. It felt like a ghost town, there had been so many layoffs. Marshall was terrified each day that he'd come into work and find his desk cleared - find his _floor_ cleared.

He wished, more than anything, that Barney was there to talk to. Ted just didn't understand.

Dropping his briefcase onto the sofa, Marshall stood in the middle of the room. It seemed like everything was so… pointless… lately. Even Lily seemed distant, strange. He knew he'd been pushing her away and the guilt was unbearable - how could he keep doing this to her?

He heard a noise from the kitchen and Lily walked into living room, that awful blank look on her face. When she spoke, her voice was very soft and monotone.

"I have a message from the Dollhouse," she said.

He did a double take and shook his head. "Lilypad?"

"This body is being used to deliver a message to you in secret. Ballard is compromised. You need to follow the money. Find the power behind the Dollhouse." Lily said it all, dead-eyed, like a recording. She sounded hollow, like a message left on their crappy broken answering machine.

"Lily… please… This isn't funny…" Marshall gaped, but somehow he knew she wasn't faking. He knew his wife. This… thing… this wasn't his wife. Oh god, it wasn't his wife! They'd killed Lily! They'd done worse! Brainwashed her! "What… how?" He managed to say.

"Find the files that Barney Stinson was keeping in his apartment. We know what they are, but not where. Find the files."

Marshall shook his head. "Lily."

"Find the files and say nothing. Anything you tell this body will be fed back to the Dollhouse. You will be contacted again." As soon as Lily said the final words, she paused and blinked, half-smiling. "Hey, Marshmallow," she said, hesitantly when she saw his expression. "Another bad day at work?"

He let out a sob, rushed to her and pulled her tightly into his arms. "Lily… oh my god, Lily…"

She grabbed on to him, scared. He was scaring her.

"Oh Lilypad… gonna never let you go…"

Lily whispered calming words into his ear, soothing him like she soothed her kindergarteners. "Marshall, what happened?" She asked him.

He swallowed, rubbing his nose into her shoulder. "Work. Bad day. Like you said."

"Not… not the Dollhouse?"

Oh god, she didn't know. She really didn't know! "No… Lil, I'm not gonna… the Dollhouse, it's over. It's too dangerous."

She sighed, but didn't reply - as if she didn't believe him.

"I think…" Marshall said, swallowing. "I think that tomorrow, I'm gonna go to Barney's apartment and sort through his stuff. His lease runs out at the end of the month. We've got to accept he's never coming back. That Robin's never coming back…"

"Oh sweetie!" Lily said, squeezing him tight.

He tried to let it comfort him, tried to find peace in her arms, but it eluded him. How could he ever let go, now that he knew it was fake? Now that even Lily had been corrupted…

What was the Dollhouse trying so hard to conceal? His entire life had been turned upside down in a few short months. Tomorrow, he'd find out why.

*--*--*

DeWitt didn't look half as pissed as Topher expected her to be. Saunders sat, cool as a cucumber, and didn't bat an eyelid while Adelle gave them her patented "I'm not angry, I'm disappointed" speech. It seemed as though he was the only one who felt like the bad little kid in this scenario. "Whiskey has been wiped." Adelle said firmly. It wasn't a question but Topher nodded nervously anyway. "And Zulu?" She continued. Her lips thinned. "Well, I want Whiskey activated and engaged immediately - for as long and as far away as possible. Zulu is to be… rested… until I say otherwise."

Topher nodded and got to his feet.

"And Claire…" DeWitt shot a look at Saunders, who was still sitting blankly in the corner of the room. "If you ever attempt such an asinine stunt again…" She didn't need to finish the sentence. For the first time since their conversation began, Saunders blanched.

"I will _not_ have my actives used in this way." DeWitt said. "Is that clear? I know there have been certain… liberties taken recently." She frowned, biting her lip. "But that stops here. No Dollhouse staff are to use any active for any personal reasons. And yes…" She glared at Topher, silencing him before he had a chance to speak. "Yes, that includes my own. We cannot put the Dolls at risk in this way. What happened to Zulu… we know that Dolls retain… fragments of memories… from their Tabula Rasa state. No matter how deep the wipe, it's entirely possible that she'll recall Whiskey's abuse-"

"He kissed her," Saunders snorted. "That hardly classifies as abuse, Adelle."

Adelle narrowed her eyes. "Regardless of how one might classify it, this is never to happen again. Is that understood?"

Topher nodded, but he felt a weird sense of unease. Whatever this was, he felt that somehow it definitely wasn't over.

*--*--*

Lily offered to come with him, that was the problem. But he'd kissed her and told her that he'd take a half day off work. She couldn't just ditch school. Truth was, Marshall couldn't just ditch work either. But this was too important. This might lead to him getting his friends back.

So he was systematically going through Barney's apartment. He was systematically tearing up Barney's apartment. Every item of clothing, every drawer, every cup, everything…

And finally he found it, in the one place where nobody would ever think to look.

Marshall grinned.

"Barney, you son-of-a-…" He murmured. "Clever boy… Clever boy…"

*--*--*

"And so the Manhattan House have sent us an urgent request," DeWitt said. They were gathered in Topher's lab - Topher and Ivy, Saunders and Boyd. Topher had known something was up, but he hadn't expected anything like this.

"Whiskey is out on an engagement - at least three more days…" Boyd pointed out.

Topher snorted, causing the other to stare at him. "Oh ye of little faith. You think we need the actual body in order to talk to the mind? Is your sphere of reference really so narrow? Dude!" He laughed. "You could put that mind into any of the male actives. Who's free right now?" He grinned. "Who's free and, um… Physically resilient? After all, you're gonna have to do some pretty nasty stuff to get at that info. That guy's not gonna give up his secrets easily.

"Victor's available," Boyd said.

Adelle's gaze hardened for a moment and Topher swore she was going to object. Then she took a breath and said "Do it."

While they waited for Boyd to bring Victor up from the zen floor, Claire asked the obvious question. "What information do they think that Mr Stinson actually has?"

Adelle didn't reply, but she turned to gaze out of the window, over the zen floor. "You all know that he was referred to us from the Manhattan House on special order?" Topher knew about the previous Zulu - the one who'd looked so much like their current Zulu that it was almost creepy, but he didn't say anything. "It seems that Mr Dominic isn't the only security issue we have right now. They are having their own… problems."

Topher noticed the way she sneered, almost as if she was relieved that another one of the Houses was troubled in the way that their House had been recently?

Boyd quickly returned with Victor, who stepped placidly into the reclining chair.

"Is it time for my treatment?" Victor asked, innocently.

Topher shrugged, nodding to Dr Saunders, who was preparing the syringe. She wouldn't stay on to see the bloody stuff. But she'd administer the drugs.

"Yeah," he said, thoughtfully. "Yeah, it is."

*--*--*

Barney opened his eyes.

That guy… the doctor guy… Topher - he was standing over him. And, wow, his head really _hurt_. And god damn it! Everything else did too. Specifically - that little thing that he definitely paid that guy not to hurt.

"You bastard…" He tried to get up out of his seat to throttle the little weasel but he's strapped down to the chair. "You give me a refund or I'll sue your ass six ways to Sunday."

"Barney… please…" The little weasel said.

"Sheesh, you were supposed to get rid of these… feelings!" Barney raged. "But I can still _feel_… Damn you!" He bit his bottom lip. This was it, his last chance. His last stupid chance to be rid of her. Of Robin. "This is _so_ NOT RAVEN!"

He blinked, realising suddenly that there were a lot more people in the room. That DeWitt woman - the one he'd dealt with originally. The ball-busting Brit.

A lady doctor… hot… but oh god! Her face! What the hell?

He gulped.

"What the hell is going on?" He said, aggressively, to mask the fact that he knew he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, metaphorically speaking. That little weasel had definitely ratted him out.

"Mr Stinson," DeWitt said calmly. "I'm afraid I have something of a shock for you." She smiled that chill smile. "You're dead."

He gaped at her. "I'm what?"

"Dead."

He looked down at his arms and legs. They didn't look like his arms and legs. They looked like another dude's arms and legs! A kind of stocky, weird looking bunch of arms and legs… Definitely not the sleekly handsome body of the Barnacle.

"Jesus - you guys ARE a bunch of freakin' Doctor Frankensteins! I knew it!"

"Mr Stinson," DeWitt said patiently, ignoring his rant. "We have resurrected you because you have some information that we need."

"Oh really? Well, screw you. Screw the whole lot of you!"

She smiled, and a larger man walked up behind her, his dark skin and even darker eyes giving him a menacing silhouette in the dim light of the room. "Mr Stinson, we are the only ones who'll be doing the… screwing… here." DeWitt continued. She was amused at him, the bitch. How dare she be amused at him! "We can make things quite uncomfortable for you," she continued.

"And things can get so much more uncomfortable for me than being dead," he replied, sarcastically.

"Actually…" DeWitt said, turning to whisper to the big dude behind her. "They can…"

The door to the lab opened, and a woman who he didn't know came in the room, followed by Robin.

Robin.

Shit. They had Robin.

He struggled like hell in the bonds.

"We'll hurt her…" DeWitt said, turning and nodding to the dark-scary-silhouette man, who grabbed Robin's arm and pulled her towards him.

"No-!" Barney protested. "Robin!" Robin flinched, her eyes wide and confused. "Scherbatsky - god damn it, tell me you're okay!"

She didn't answer him, but she squeaked in pain when the big man pulled one arm behind her back, twisting it.

"No- stop!" Barney shouted, pulling at the straps so hard that one of them almost came lose.

Robin screamed, then whimpered, tears in her eyes.

"Please, goddamnyoumotherfuckers STOP!" He yelled.

"Tell us what you had hidden regarding the Manhatten Dollhouse. What secret information was in your apartment?" DeWitt asked him.

Robin was screaming, screaming, her blue eyes wide and terrified.

"No, please, stop it! Please!"

"What information did you have hidden in your apartment, Mr Stinson?" DeWitt asked him again, calmly.

"Damn you, I'll tell you just stop!" He choked, tasting bile. He didn't care any more. He was dead anyway. But he couldn't see them do that to her. "Just let her go…"

"We can't do that Mr Stinson."

"But-!"

"But we will make sure that no harm comes to her."

Barney considered this. "Great. Now that just sounds like you're going to kill her."

DeWitt smiled thinly. "I apologise. I just have a natural tendency to make everything sound like a threat."

Barney bit his lip. It didn't feel like his lip. In fact his face didn't feel much like his face either.

"Mr Stinson…"

"Okay okay," He said, taking a deep breath. "Okay. What you need to know is…"

What has he got to lose?

*--*--*

_Zulu followed Victor around the zen floor for several days. She just felt safer when she was around him, although she didn't quite know why. She sat next to him when she ate, she painted when he painted. She was pretty sure that Sierra was following him too. _

_Perhaps Victor was the best of them all? Perhaps he just tried harder than everyone else? It was strange, but she trusted him, like she trusted Dr Saunders. Or Topher. She could see from the look on Sierra's face that Sierra felt the same. _

_But sometimes when they sat together at lunch, Sierra would frown at her, as though she didn't feel so safe when Zulu was around. It made her feel… small… inside. It hurt a little bit, like her stomach when she forgets a meal time and has to be reminded. _

_A week later, she sees Whiskey on the zen floor. It's regular Whiskey - there's no white coat. Zulu doesn't know why she thinks Whiskey should have a white coat, she just does. She watches him walk past her and for a moment she thinks he hasn't seen her, won't greet her. _

_Then he turns and cocks his head, like he's trying to work her out. Like he's trying to see all the things she as done with her day. How productive she is…?_

_She feels a tingle on her lips. She parts them and with a single breath, whispers the word "Robin"…_

_She doesn't know why she says that - a Robin is a type of bird. _

_But he seems to understand because he smiles and nods, then he catches her eye, holds her transfixed by his blue, hypnotic gaze. _

_"Robin…" He replies, softly, and a thrill goes through her at the word. _

_And now, somehow, Zulu knows that they share a secret. _

_Even though neither of them really understands what it means. _

.


	13. Miracles

**Miracles**

_He's tied up: Left wrist crossed over right wrist, fixed above his head. There are handcuffs - the metal rattles as he moves his hands. _

_"Relax, James…" The voice says. James… James… he knows that name. There's a syringe on the bedside table, plunger depressed. There's a sting in the crook of his arm. But it's his name. Isn't it? His name. Jim. Jimmy. James. But... But.._

_James… James… he knows that name. "Brother?" He croaks. His throat is sore… so, so sore. _

_There's a chuckle. "If only we had more time."_

_And then he gasps. His eyes go very wide and he… remembers… And oh god, the pain. The pain! There's somewhere/someone/somewhen else but the pain! A guy, a big guy, a syringe, and this guy, he's pulling down his pants and he's shoving his dick… _

_Pain…_

_There's a coughing sound, his tongue is too big for his mouth but he knows how to get free form the handcuffs - he's done it a million times…_

_"Tell me… do you like… magic?"_

_Did he actually say those words or are they a memory? A million girls, pretty faces pinched in confusion as they realise they can't get free. Trick handcuffs? Nope, the handcuffs are real. It's just… he could always dislocate his thumbs. It's a thing. Useful when you do…_

_"Magic…"_

_"If only we had more time…"_

_His eyes go very wide and the guy standing over him has a knife - a tiny knife - and he tenses, muscles on his neck standing out and then, somewhere close, a door slams. _

_"Robin…"_

_He says the name - another name as familiar as his brother, as his friends, and he remembers everything, bleeding together, every regret, every mistake and it's driving him crazy. He tries to throttle the other man - the man with the sandy hair and the crazy eyes but he can't. Because he's no longer there and all his wild throttling skills are wasted. _

_A woman hovers over him. _

_"Do you trust me…?"_

_He throttles her instead. _

*--*--*

When Marshall came home, Ted was sitting alone in the apartment with the Intervention banner draped over his lap. For a moment, just an instant, Marshall thought "Where's Lily?" and then he remembered.

"You can't do this…" Ted said. "Marshall…" His old friend swallowed, on the edge of tears.

"Ted, I'm leaving." Marshall said, turning away. He didn't feel strong. He didn't feel equipped for this. There was no Robin at his side.

"First Barney, then Robin, now you?" Ted's voice rose in pitch. "I can't lose any more friends. I can't lose you."

The plan had seemed so simple - fight with Lily - storm out. Threaten to leave her - keep Lily safe. Don't tell her where he's going.

The Dollhouse.

But the reality came crashing in. Lily had cried and begged and pleaded. She'd hit pause and made love to him until he'd cried. And now here was Ted.

Marshall opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. He was paralysed. He couldn't endanger Lily and he couldn't talk in the apartment. The Dollhouse would know.

Then Ted did something amazing.

*--*--*

"It was a composite," Topher said dully. "No doubt."

"Topher," DeWitt snapped. "We've got more important things to worry about."

"Right… because talking to Dominic about some stupid NSA message is more important than another potential Alpha!" Topher new he shouldn't be shouting but he was a little frazzled. All this was just too much - putting people they know in doll's bodies, talking to them. It was starting to freak him out.

He didn't sign up for this.

"Nothing is more important than a composite event, Topher. But you know what to do. The attic."

"The attic?" Topher repeated. "For _Whiskey_? Are you serious? We have no idea what happened. This is completely different to Alpha in every way. Whiskey didn't kill his handler - she found him and sedated him in time. Whiskey's composite includes real memories - memories of Barney Stinson. He's a jumble of crossed wires and I have no idea why! New York want me to send him there - they've had some similar problems. More minor, maybe, but similar. But I don't think we should let him go."

"Whiskey…" DeWitt sighed. "I never should have re-used that designation. It's always been trouble…"

"Say what?" Topher looks at her, confused.

"Just pack him up and send him to the New York office." DeWitt said. "And get Victor ready…"

Topher nodded. DeWitt really wasn't focussing on this, and somehow he felt that it was far more important than this Dominic thing. If only he knew _why_ Whiskey had composite-ed?

Why _now_?

Why did it have to be _now_?

*--*--*

Zulu kept a lookout for Whiskey but he didn't reappear. She… felt…

Why didn't she have the words?

_"Scotch and soda, Scherbatsky! C'mon… tell me about your day. No! I'm interes-"_

She shook her head. She could hear someone speaking, like they were in a different room. But the words made no sense. Zulu felt… bad. Not her best. But she couldn't go and see Dr Saunders because Dr Saunders wasn't… wasn't…

_"Why is CANADA even a country? Seriously dude, you do-"_

She missed Whiskey. She couldn't be her best while he wasn't around. She tried looking for Victor but they just took him away again.

Zulu stood at the bottom of the stairs as Victor was led away. They were always taking Victor away! She wished Sierra or Echo were there.

_"Because it's awesome, that's why! That's why! No… suck it! Suck on that, hussy! I don't believ-"_

Too many of her friends were gone. The Dollhouse was very lonely without them.

Zulu looked down at her drawing. There were lots of birds, birds with red breasts, over and over, covering every square inch of the paper.

Someone put their hand on her shoulder and shook it. "Time for you to sleep, Zulu." Zulu smiled and got to her feet.

_"So, I just slept with my best friend's ex-girlfriend."_

There was a nagging pain behind her eyes. Sleep was exactly what she needed.

Sleep made her better.

*--*--*

Bro-telepathy was awesome, Marshall decided. Bro-lepathy.

Ted grinned, sitting next to him on the plane and Marshall glanced over at him.

_Bro-lepathy? Oh man, you sound like Barney…_

Marshall laughed, then covered his mouth with his hand. A couple of people were staring it him. It must seen weird to see a big guy burst into a fit of girly giggles for seemingly-no-reason.

The seatbelt light went out.

"So…" Ted said, affecting a casual tone. "Just two bros, visiting LA…"

Marshall tried not to laugh again.

Okay, so this was a suicide mission. Okay so they had exactly NO hope of getting either Barney or Robin out of the Dollhouse. And even if they did, they'd no doubt both be killed by Dollhouse Ninjas.

But Ted was with him and finally he was doing something. Marshall opened his hand and looked down at the tiny device he held in his palm. He'd better put it in his pocket before he sweated all over it and shorted it out or something.

It looked like a regular USB memory stick but for the tiny engraving on the side: "AltruWorld".

Marshall grinned. This all went a lot deeper than he'd every realised. And he hoped and prayed, for the first time in his life, that he and Ted were two very small pawns in a very large game.

Okay, perhaps two knights. Cos pawns were a little too expendable.

*--*--*

While Ballard and Alpha were penetrating the Dollhouse from above, a black van swung out of the service entrance and into the busy city above. There were three guards in the van and one passenger.

The passenger was contained in a coffin-sized base with a thick, semi-opaque material covering his body so that he was completely enclosed and fixed down to the hard surface below it - like a turkey, saran-wrapped to a basting tray. A panel on the side registered the life-signs of the person within.

If Barney had been aware of what was happening to him, he would have felt a sense of crippling, suffocating claustrophobia, followed quickly by overwhelming pride and awesomeness.

Because he kind-of looked like Han Solo, encased in carbonite.

But all things considered, it was probably a good thing that he _was_ deeply unconscious.

*--*--*

By the time Ted and Marshall got to the Dollhouse, it was…

Marshall was completely convinced that this couldn't be it. It couldn't actually be the Dollhouse! Surely there should be more security? They didn't even need to use the Memory Stick.

They'd rode the elevator, exactly where they map had told them it would be.

They'd walked through a bunch of identical corridors and Marshall had needed to physically restrain Ted from running around each corners and pretending to draw a gun. Now wasn't the time to play at being secret agents.

Then they'd come across some kind of freaky zen garden. The place seemed completely deserted.

"Is this a trap?" Ted whispered, comically loudly.

"I don't know…" Marshall said, "But all my instincts are telling me, don't look this gift horse in the mouth, dude. Let's find Barney and Robin and run?"

"And what if they're all… blank? You know, mind-wiped? What if they don't know us?" Ted hurried after him as Marshall ran along another corridor.

"Then-" He stopped because there, on the carpet beneath their feet, there were drops of red… blood. "Oh, god, Ted…" Marshall said, his legs turning to jelly. "Is that what I think it is?"

Ted shook his head. "Should we be going in the direction where that came from?"

Marshall gulped. "Dude."

But Ted kept going. "Look, maybe someone got here before us - took out all the security? Maybe someone else lost someone like we lost Barney and Robin? And they came to bust them out?"

Marshall laughed. "Man, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! I mean, the chances against that are pretty astronomical!"

Ted shrugged. "Hey, co-incidences do happen."

Marshall smiled. "Or miracles?"

They looked at each other for a beat then started running up the corridor again.

What they found was a number of freakishly futuristic sleeping pods, filled with young people. Asleep.

One of them was Robin.

Barney was nowhere to be found.

*--*--*

_She knows these men. Zulu knows them and she trusts them. They lead her out of the sleeping room and along towards the pool. Are they going to swim now?_

_"It's okay, Robin," the bigger man says, draping a hand over her shoulder. _

_Robin… "I'm Zulu," she says brightly. "A robin is a bird."_

_"Oh holy crap, Ted," the bigger man says. The other man takes her hand. _

_"Er, Zulu? Come with us, okay?"_

_"Is it time for my treatment?" She asks. But these men, they look… look… Something pops into her brain. "Are you taking me to Whiskey?" She asks, hopefully. _

_"Wow, some things never change!" The big man laughs. "They still feeding you scotch?"_

_The smaller man laughs. "Actually, I think that she's using a code word. Like Zulu. You know, the military alphabet?"_

_The bigger man cocks his head. "Ted, really, now's not the time to put on your corrector-head."_

_Zulu's head turns from one to the other. This is all so familiar. Like it's there, somewhere, the answer to a question she doesn't know how to ask. But it's also wrong. _

_For the next hour she's frozen with fear. She stops talking completely when she gets on the plane. But when they touch down in NYC, she's wearing the smaller man's jacket because it is so cold, and Zulu manages to talk again. _

_They're met in the arrivals lounge by a dark-haired woman holding up a sign that says "Marshmallow and Ted". When she sees Zulu, she drops the sign and pulls her into a hug so tight that she can barely breathe._

_Everyone is crying and smiling and it feels like… it makes her happy, but then the dark-haired woman says-_

_"Where's Barney?"_

_And all the happiness seems to drain away. _


	14. Whiskey

**Whiskey**

_**Author's note:**_

_This is a REPLACEMENT to the previous part of DOLL, as I had some better ideas after watching Epitaph One and Alpha. Contains spoilers for these episodes. _

_**The story so far:**__ The story so far: Robin (aka "Zulu") has been "wiped clean" by the dollhouse - she's basically in the tabula rasa state. But Ted and Marshall managed to rescue her from the LA Dollhouse and bring her back to NYC._

_Barney is "missing". Adele sent him to the Manhattan Dollhouse after his doll state (aka "Whiskey" - he took the designation after the original Whiskey became Dr Claire Saunders) began to develop glitches._

They pull him out of a freezing cold coffin by his arms and he falls forward, over the back of a man dressed in white. As he tries to open his eyes fully, he realises that he's naked.

He's pretty sure he's not supposed to be naked.

They lay him back on to a hospital bed in a white room. He is so disorientated, so scared, that he stays perfectly still. Maybe if he stays still, curled up into the tiniest ball, then they will forget he's there?

They talk about him as though he's not there, anyways.

"This is the body?" One man says. The man is dressed in a suit. There's a flicker of recognition - not for the man, but for the clothing.

"This is Whiskey, yes. Fresh from the Los Angeles house."

Whiskey… Whiskey… he knows that name. He's pretty sure that's his name.

He's pretty sure that his name is Whiskey.

And he's supposed to be his best.

"Hmmm…" There's a pause. "I'm not sure I like it."

Whiskey tries to rub his eyes but his arms won't move. He can't even move a finger.

"He's a little too skinny. His forehead is too high."

He's not his best.

"Sir, I assure you, Whiskey was considered to be one of the most attractive Dolls in our LA branch."

"Then why did they send him back here to New York, eh?" The speaker was an old man. A very old, very crotchety man.

"His behaviour was somewhat erratic."

Whiskey let out a moan.

"Hmm. Well if this is all you've got, I suppose I could take it."

The other man, the man in the white coat (Dr Saunders? No, it's a man not a woman) shrugs. "You could always wait."

"You know that my time is running out!" Says the old man, angrily.

"You have another couple of months before the cancer takes away your faculties."

The elderly man harrumphs. "Maybe. All right, I'll wait. But prep this one in case I need it urgently."

"Certainly, Sir."

Whiskey's eyes slowly begin to close again until all he could see was the pale pink of the inside of his own eyelids.

"This body probably has another good fourty years of life left…" The crotchety old man's voice reached Whiskey through his stupor. "And after that..? Well…" His laugh was thin and papery and evil. "After that, there's always another young body waiting."

Whiskey's head lolled to one side as he fell into a deep sleep.

*--*--*

Two months later, Marshall still felt as lost and helpless as he ever had his entire life.

Robin was little more than a blank doll. The tough, take-no-crap Canadian woman's mind had been reduced to that of a scared, confused child. Sometimes she would say something - a phrase, maybe even a whole sentence - which showed that Robin was still inside there somewhere. But every time she would sob for something that none of them could give her - Whiskey, the code word or just plain alcohol, it was impossible to tell - and then she'd cry herself to sleep. It tore them apart to watch her.

Ted had never really recovered from their desperate flight back to New York - he saw shadows on every corner, enemies spying on them on every street. Wracked with paranoia, he'd sought help in endless rounds of intensive psychotherapy. But Marshall secretly thought that his best friend would never be truly healed until Robin was whole again, and Barney was found.

Heck, they were back to square one. All Marshall's interference, all his efforts to save Barney and to bring his friends back home had only resulted in them huddled together in Ted's apartment, some days too terrified to even make it past their own front door. It had all been for nothing.

No, worse than nothing - because Lily had been turned into some kind of brain-washed drone under the control of the Dollhouse and Marshall couldn't even count on his own wife for support.

Every time he's tried to do something, every time Marshall had attempted to fight back, he'd been crushed and they'd lost something even more precious. First Barney, then Robin, then Lily.

Now, they had nowhere to turn.

And then someone called Alpha found them.

*--*--*

Everything was a mess. But even with the computer equipment in complete disarray, Topher was pretty sure that some of their actives were going missing.

And this definitely wasn't an Alpha thing. This definitely wasn't bodies turning up, their faces criss-crossed with blood. No, this wasn't a sent-to-the-attic thing either.

This was about actives being suddenly gone. Lost. Wiped-clean from the books.

As if they'd never existed.

It was tempting to think this was an Alpha thing. After all, Alpha had believed that once a person gave up the right to their body, they had not reason to expect it back. Alpha liked to destroy the original imprint personalities of the actives, so that were left blank, for anyone powerful enough to take them.

The thought chilled Topher to the bone.

Yes… okay… so some of what they did in the Dollhouse was morally… questionable. But they took care of their actives! And there were strict (very strict) rules about that sort of thing. After five years the active was restored, good as new, with their original personality. In the meantime, what the donor-personality didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Until their bodies started to disappear.

Topher was left with the original imprint disk, a whole person frozen in time, and no body left to put them back into once their five-year tenure had expired. He'd tried to bring this to the attention of Adele but she really didn't hear him.

She had other fish to fry.

She had Alpha to deal with.

But somewhere, something was off. And so Topher took his concerns to Ballard instead.

*--*--*

"Dude, are you sure this is a good idea?" Ted said, as he and Marshall walked into the elevator at GNB and pressed the button for the thirty-fifth floor.

Marshall stared straight ahead and tried not to gulp. He tried not to swallow nervously. He very definitely didn't fiddle with his tie.

They had come here to meet with the CEO of Goliath National Bank. It was very important. Alpha had been quite insistent about it.

The memory stick in his pocket seemed unnaturally heavy, like kryptonite, like it was weighing him down and making him weak. Marshall had never been very good at duplicity.

That was Barney's strength - lies, deception, playing with the truth until it was spun tight into gossamer wisps of fact threaded through a distorted glass of pretence and elaboration.

But Barney was gone.

Alpha had said he wanted them to continue what Barney had started - to bring down the Dollhouse by telling their secrets to other, more powerful organisations - organisations such as Altrucell, the true power behind GNB. All the Dollhouse's secrets were locked up in that one, tiny memory stick. All that information that the Dollhouse had searched so desperately for. Marshall hadn't been surprised when Alpha had told them (remotely, through encrypted email - he didn't even know if Alpha was a man or a woman) that there was also a Dollhouse in Manhattan.

"We're in way over our head, you know that?" Ted said, shifting nervously. "We're just a couple of guys. We're not cut out for conspiracies and plots and death threats. I don't even know what to say to a CEO of a bank. I've never met one! We should be in a bar right now! Chugging a beer! And I know that doesn't sound like a great life plan but it sounds a hell of a lot better than a bullet in the brain. Or worse."

They both knew what "worse" would be.

"It's Robin, man," Marshall said with a sigh. We got her into this. We have to get her out.

Ted was silent for a moment then nodded. "Alpha said that it's not Robin's fault. That they forced her to be one of them against her will. But… that's like saying that all the other… people? What the hell do you call them, Marshall?"

"Dolls," Marshall said, quietly.

"That all the other Dolls are volunteers? Dude! You gotta be kidding me!"

Marshall shook his head. "It's Robin, man. We've got enough info on the Dollhouse tech to cut a deal with the big guns of Altrucell, all thanks to Barney's memory stick here. And from what Alpha tells me, those guys want in on the Dollhouse, big time. Altrucell can help us, I know I will. And this memory stick should be enough leverage to get Robin back. In the end, that's all we want…" He didn't have to continue. Ted glanced at him furtively and Marshall nodded, just once.

Ted shuffled his feet. "I know. I guess we gotta do this?"

Marshall nodded curtly and checked the waistband of his pants for the hundredth time. His fingers brushed the cold metal of the gun that was concealed there.

Right now, he wished more than anything that Robin was there with them. She was way better at this than he was.

*--*--*

Zulu sits on the floor with Lily. She likes Lily. Lily speaks softly and plays games with her and smiles and is always kind. Marshall barely speaks to her at all and Ted always seems to be shouting and frustrated with her.

But Lily - Lily is nice.

Lily helps Zulu to be her best.

Lily takes her to the pool to swim and to the gym to run. She even runs with her in the park - where there are great expanses of grass and sky. But there are too many people and noise and way too much space. Zulu cannot be her best in the park.

Lily gets to her feet and holds out her hand, pulling Zulu upright. The smaller girl looks at her, and something cold is quite visible in her eyes.

"Is it time for my treatment?" Zulu asks, because it seems like the correct response.

"Yes," Lily says. "Follow me."

They do not stop to get a coat or Lily's purse and there is no laughter and there are no smiles.

But Zulu trusts Lily with all her heart and soul.

In the absence of Topher and Dr Saunders and Whiskey, Lily is the only one left to trust.

*--*--*

"You know this is a risk?" Ballard said to Topher. "Are you sure about this?"

Topher threw up his hands. "Sure? I mean, sure! The odds on this one are a little on the long side. But I've been studying Alpha's attack and I know this can work. I mean, I've tested it but over such a distance? I mean… all the way to New York? We need a man on the inside."

Ballard smiled. "Already in position. Are you sure about this?"

Topher sighed. "What they're doing… it's wrong. We can nip this in the bud right now. Right now. Before it gets out of hand. You and me, man. There's so much we could be doing. So much cool stuff. What the Manhattan House is doing… sheesh!"

Ballard nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"And you won't tell Adele? Promise?"

"You know I can't promise that, Topher."

Topher bit his lip. "Come on, man!"

Ballard turned away. "But what she doesn't know…"

Thank god the big guy understood. "Manfriend," He said, clapping Ballard on the back. "You have no idea…"

*--*--*

The memory stick felt so heavy in Marshall's pocket. So heavy. His palms were sweating and he was getting a migraine.

Marshall made a terrible spy.

And as if that wasn't enough, before he could get to see the top man at Goliath National Bank, their only possible conduit to Altrucell HQ, he and Ted had to get past his secretary.

"I'm afraid he's not seeing anyone today," Julia said, filing her nails.

"Just give him the message, woman!" Marshall demanded through gritted teeth.

She raised an eyebrow and picked up the phone, shooing them away.

Ted grinned at him. "Wow, that was really masterful!"

"Shut up, Ted!"

The both took a seat in the high-ceilinged waiting room.

"What do you think Alpha wants out of this?" Ted asked him, keeping his voice low.

Marshall shook his head. "He… or she… says that they want what we want. To expose the Dollhouse."

Ted gave him a look. "You really think so? Has anyone told the truth since Barney first got himself in to this mess?"

Marshall's stomach dropped. That was his greatest fear - that they'd hand over this memory stick and get into worse trouble than before. Alpha had given him a backup plan - an absolute measure of last resort. But at the end of the day, he and Ted were on their own now. "What choice do we have?"

"We can walk away. Right now. Because… what if Alpha works for the Dollhouse? What if he's trying to get Robin… er… Zulu… back?"

Ted practically spat the name. He couldn't relate at all to Robin's blank-canvas state. He hated it. And he hated himself for making Zulu's life harder. Poor guy. "That's why we didn't bring Robin here."

Ted stuck his tongue beneath his teeth. "Sure, but-" He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by Julia getting to her feet and calling them over. "You can go right in."

It was so unexpected that Marshall stumbled over his own feet as they made their way over to the big double doors at the end of the hallway.

They opened inwards, allowing Marshall and Ted to step inside and greet the single figure, standing by the bay window, looking out over the panorama of Manhattan skyscrapers. The man turned around.

"Hey." He said, shortly.

"Barney?" Ted said, his voice cracking, as he leapt across the remaining distance in order to pull his friend into a bearhug.

But Marshall didn't move from the spot.

That may look like Barney and dress like Barney. He may even sound like Barney.

But his eyes. His eyes, man.

No way was that Barney. Barney's body maybe, but their friend wasn't in the driving seat. No - this thing, this looked like a Dollhouse active. A Dollhouse active that was apparently in charge of Goliath National Bank.

*--*--*

Ted felt numb.

When Marshall tried to negotiate, doing his very best to stay focussed and strong, trying to stand his ground despite the fact that he was very obviously dealing with a Dollhouse agent, Ted knew everything was slipping away.

Whenever "Barney" (or whoever was in Barney's body) began to speak, it was like a knife in his belly.

Ted never thought he'd be so desperate to hear his friend say the word "awesome".

Marshall looked over at him and tried to smile, tried to be encouraging, but it looked very much like they'd lost.

With every passing minute, they were losing; losing Barney and Robin and possibly their own lives. Why on earth did they think they could go up against the Dollhouse. Or Altrucell? Or whoever was in charge?

"Barney" looked up at one point and must have noticed Ted staring at him. "Ted Mosby, right?" Ted nodded.

"Oh don't worry, I'm not an active."

Marshall looked surprised.

"No. I'm the real deal. Right now, I am Barney Stinson and I am the CEO of the New York Branch of Goliath National Bank. And Right now, I am thirty-three years old and I have an incredible life, more money than I can spend and a circle of close friends." He laughed nastily.

"Who are you, man?" Ted said. Not an active? How could that be?

"Oh, I am immortal. You see, the Dollhouse recently saved me from a… well, let's just say an inconvenient and untimely death. You may not believe it to look at me, but just a few short weeks ago I was an eighty-year-old man, his whole life behind him, his body ravaged by that most insidious of diseases: Cancer. And this… new, young and vibrant body… this was convenient."

"That's obscene!" Marshall choked. "What happened to Barney?"

The man in front of them shrugged. "I can't say that I care!" And he grinned Barney's feral smile but the familiar expression made Ted feel queasy.

Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse.

"So our friend is dead?" Marshall said.

The other man just smile. "Oh no. He's very much alive. And if I were you, I'd carry on as if nothing had happened, because you still have a wife and as far as I know, she takes the subway to work every day. And we all know how dangerous the subway can be?"

Ted had to throw both arms around Marshall to stop his friend launching himself at "Barney".

"No man!" He whispered in Marshall's ear. "He's so no worth it."

"Your friends has the right idea," "Barney" said, grinning. "You see, I'm going to continue to live Mr Stinson's life as if nothing had happened and you are both going to play along. Is that clear?"

Ted looked over at Marshall and they both nodded. What else could they do.

"Excellent." He beamed. "Then I'll see you in the bar later?"

*--*--*

Ted was on his fourth beer when Marshall slammed his fist on the table, making him and half the bar jump.

"I swear," Marshall hissed, through gritted teeth, "If that guy turns up here I'll cold cock him, Dollhouse or no Dollhouse!"

Ted nodded. He wasn't getting any argument from that quarter.

"I mean, how can he ever expect us to just sit here and watch him parade around in Barney's body!"

"It's not like Barney didn't want it. Alpha was right…" Ted said.

Speaking of Alpha, Marshall reached into his pocket. He still had it! Awesome. While he was thinking about everything - Alpha, the Dollhouse, the interloper in Barney's body, Lily and Robin- no, Zulu, walked into the bar.

Although on second thoughts, it really looked like Lily and-

"Hey guys!" Robin said, shimmying into the booth next to Ted. "You gonna get me a drink? Me and Lil have been shopping all afternoon and I swear my feet are ground down to the bone! Your wife is a menace, man!"

Both Ted and Marshall gaped at her.

"A little present from the Dollhouse," Lily said, giving them both a pointed look.

Robin grinned at both of them, nonplussed. "Uh, drink?"

Ted got to his feet. "Uh, you girls want a beer?"

Robin stretched back in the booth. "Ted, you're a great guy, you know that? Total life saver!"

Marshall just reached across the booth and squeezed Lily's hand. "How did this happen?"

"How did what happen?" Robin asked.

"She doesn't know?" Marshall stared at her. It was Robin all right. Robin in the way she sat and the way she smiled and even her turn of phrase. Everything about Robin was as right as everything about Barney had been wrong. Marshall had never before appreciated just how much the person inside the body was responsible for animating it. And just what a truly diabolical thing it was that the Dollhouse was doing.

Bodies for sale, for rich guys who wanted to live forever?

Guys like Barney, stripped of everything that made them them and turned over like a slab of meat.

He felt the anger built inside him.

"Robin," he said, barely controlling himself. "What do you remember about the Dollhouse?"

She looked a little confused. "I-" She stopped and shook her head. "I'm not sure. I think I heard that somewhere before-" Then she looked up. "Hey, where's Barney?"

Her words were met with an echoing silence across the table, which Ted walked back in on, carrying four beers.

"Hey, stop being weird!" Robin demanded. "Ted, where's Barney?"

"Speak of the devil…" Marshall said, as Barney walked into the bar.

*--*--*

No one spoke when he dragged up a chair and sat down, not even bothering with the fake smile.

"So, you're all going to play along?" He asked them. His voice sounded more and more unlike Barney's.

Marshall leaned forward and tossed something through the air to him. The man in Barney's body caught it and gave Marshall a confused look.

"You want to be Barney, I thought you could use his phone."

The guy looked down at the thing in his hands as if he'd never seen an iPhone before. It beeped and he almost dropped it.

"That means you have a message!" Lily said, bright and helpful as ever.

Ted glared at her.

Marshall grit his teeth. "You just drag your finger across the bottom and press call?"

They all watched as the man in Barney's body tried clumsily to operate the phone, so unlike their friend with his nimble fingers and his quick wit.

Robin leaned forward to say something but Ted held her back and hushed her into silence. He put his arm around her and shook his head mournfully. How could they explain to Robin that Barney was gone?

The man in Barney's body put the phone to his ear. There was a high pitched whine - like a dog whistle - which put all their teeth on edge and felt very much like someone was sticking a knitting needle in their collective ears.

Barney's body fell forward, his forehead hitting the table with a painful smack.

Lily caught the phone as it slipped from his limp fingers.

"He had a message!" She said, almost delightedly. And Marshall turned her around to look at him as she put the phone up to her ear.

"It's done," she said.

"Lilypad?" Marshall asked, gently.

"Okay…" Lily said, responding to something on the phone. She shook Barney's arm.

"Did I fall asleep?" He mumbled.

The all sat and stared as Barney sat up. It was quite clear he had been wiped clean - his face held exactly the same mystified, innocent expression that Robin's had held these last two months.

But Lily merely smiled she held the phone back up against his ear.

"For a little while," she said."Now listen. This is important." She mimed holding the phone.

Barney dutifully took the phone and pressed it hard against the side of his head.

This time the whine from the iPhone's speaker made the beer bottles on the table resonate, and gave Ted a nosebleed.

*--*--*

"What exactly have you been up to Topher?" Adele said, making the sandy-haired scientist almost jump out of his skin.

"Nothing!" He said with a nervous giggle. "I mean… I got that squishy machine set up in the lap, so if you want a strawberry squishy then just drop by!"

She shook her head, almost fondly. Her icy demeanour had melted considerably after the Alpha incident. "I mean, what results have you had in reverse engineering Alpha's remote wipe technology?"

Topher breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh… Oh! Excellent! There's a new pulse technology that I think we can effectively combine with Alpha's breakthroughs and not only remote-wipe, but also remote-imprint. After field trials, it really will be an asset on any engagement, you know, in-"

She cut him off. "Just send me a report when you have something concrete."

He smiled. "Right." And she'd be astounded when she realised how far he'd got. She'd be so amazed that she might even forgive him for putting Barney Stinson back in his own body. She might forgive him. Okay, the report would probably have to be really good. He gulped.

She gave him a look. "Is something wrong, Mr Brink?"

Topher grinned at her. Ballard was right. What she didn't know…? "No. No, everything's great Adele. Everything's fine."

Epilogue

Barney sits next to Robin in the booth.

Beneath the table she snakes a hand across until her fingers reach his, then she laces them together, holding on to him.

He expects that she can't exactly rationalise it, but Robin keeps him close. She says that she feels safer with him there.

The others keep him close too.

Lily keeps hugging him (it's embarrassing) and it's been at least two weeks since Marshall or Ted refused to return a high five, even for the weakest joke.

It's weird.

But nice.

They all sat him and Robin down and told them the most ridiculous, outlandish, completely unbelievable story that he'd ever heard. Seriously, it was way worse than anything he'd constructed to get a woman to sleep with him.

But he's pretty sure it's all true.

Him going to the Dollhouse in order to deal with his feelings for Robin. Marshall and Robin coming after him. Robin getting caught up in the whole thing and Lily too.

He's pretty sure that it's all on the level.

And okay, it all sounds crazy dangerous. It all sounds pretty traumatic. And Marshall and Ted seem to have both aged about five years in two months.

But Robin's fingers are laced in his under the table and when she looks at him, she smiles without a hint of defensiveness or bitterness.

And even though everyone else is hurting, even though he nearly lost his life, his friends, even his own body - he can't help but mouth to her:

"Worth it."


End file.
